


The Plan

by devylish



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: F/M, Female Character of Color, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-05
Updated: 2012-11-05
Packaged: 2017-11-18 01:11:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 33,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/555229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devylish/pseuds/devylish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AN This was my first Grey's Anatomy fic ever.... I hadn't watched much of the show, but from what i'd seen, i'd fallen irrevocably in love with Callie Torres... and the man she was meant to be with: Mark Sloan</p><p>Older fic being archived here on AOOO</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Muffin Lovin'

**MALLIE ThePlan MALLIE ThePlan MALLIE ThePlan MALLIE ThePlan**

"Hey Gorgeous."

Without looking up from the newspaper she was reading, Callie mumbled a half-hearted greeting. "Sloan."

He settled on the other side of the booth, placing his tray down while he watched her. "Any disease in your family?"

A second went by before she looked up and stared at him, a look of confusion on her face. "What?"

"Your family." He opened the bottle of milk he'd purchased. "Do the Torres' have any particular hereditary diseases?"

She tilted her head to the side looking at him over the edge of her newspaper. "Come again?"

"You know: Graves, Diabetes, Heart conditions?"

Straightening the paper so that she could refocus on it, she started reading again before answering. "My mom has arthritis."

Sloan fiddled with the milk cap, his nimble fingers twisting and flipping the plastic top. "Any mental instabilities?"

Callie sighed. "Is this a new 'irritate Torres' ploy of yours? 'Stop her from enjoying one of her few free moments by asking her inane questions'?"

He smiled. "That wasn't my plan, no. But hey, if it's doing that too…."

"Then what? What do you want Mark?" She picked up her, now cold, cup of coffee and took a sip as she waited for his response. She found it strange that his silence was more irritating and unnerving than his questions.

"So, how old are you?"

She nearly spat out her coffee. "You don't reallllly expect me to answer that do you? What woman tells a man how old she is?"

He grinned, "A woman who isn't afraid." A challenge laced through his voice.

Callie lowered and folded her newspaper before leaning back against the red pleather of the booth, her arms crossed over her chest. "How old do you 'think' I am?" Her eyebrow was raised in a responding challenge.

"There's NO right answer to that question and you know it. If I guess too high, you'll dropkick me. If I guess too low, you'll become a 'female' and accuse me of patronizing you."

"Now who's afraid?"

"You're an undeniably scary woman, Torres."

"And you'd do well not to forget that fact."

Sloan grinned, "Oh, I won't. You're dangerous and vulnerable all at the same time, it's intriguing." He winked at her. "And sexy. Your danger is definitely part of your sex appeal. That and the little sound you make right before you climax."

Callie flushed, and surreptitiously glanced around the room, making certain no one was listening to Mark's taunting.

"Vulnerable my ass," she muttered quietly before redirecting the conversation. "Stop playing with your food and get to the point. Why the Twenty-Questions Sloan?"

"I can't help it if I like playing with muffins." Mark popped a piece of the blueberry one he'd purchased in his mouth with a smile, and studied Callie's face for a minute. She had great features; beautiful eyes, great hair, and a smile that could turn a man on from across the room. Add to that the fact that she was intelligent and passionate…. He made up his mind. "I've got a proposition for you."

"I've already told you 'no', we're not doing that! Again. Ever!"

He grinned a 'we'll see about that grin' and pushed his half finished tray away from him. Leaning in he continued. "I'm not talking about that, not exactly."

Callie glanced at her wrist, "Well make it fast Romeo. I only have a few more minutes left for my break."

His continued silence made her look up from gathering her belongings. She blinked. She could have sworn she just saw a look, a fleeting look, of uncertainty on his face. But that couldn't be – Mark Sloan was one of the most confident men – one of the most confident humans – she'd ever met in her life. His silence, and his trepidation, crap, now she was worried. "What is it Sloan? What do you want?"

"Let's have a baby."

 


	2. Meet Me At Joe's

**MALLIE ThePlan MALLIE ThePlan MALLIE ThePlan MALLIE ThePlan**

" _Let's have a baby."_

"Whaaaaaatttt?!" Callie's shriek could be heard throughout the dining room, and honestly, she couldn't care less. There was no way Sloan had just said what she thought he'd just said. Was there? "Come again?"

"Maybe later."

"Sloan!"

Mark grinned and kept his hands busy, folding the napkin he was holding into smaller and smaller sections. If Callie hadn't been so shocked by his question she might have noticed the nervous action. "You know, if you said that just a little bit louder, and with a little more vibrato, it would bring back some wonderful memories."

"Memories – past tense." Callie slid out of the booth, grabbing her files and bag. "I'm too tired to play your games today Mark. Find another toy."

_Well, that had gone better than he'd planned. At least she hadn't hit him; which was really what he was expecting. Of course, it could have gone better. Probably could have used a little more 'foreplay' before thrusting the whole 'let's have a baby' idea at her. 'Note to self, Callie LIKES it hard and fast, but sometimes she definitely needs to be played with a bit._ '

Pulling himself out of the booth, Sloan grabbed his garbage and followed Callie's retreating form out of the cafeteria.

"Torres." He grinned as she kept walking, but casually bent one arm behind her back and gave him the finger. Mark was all about pushing buttons – everyone's buttons – but pushing Callie's buttons was especially fun ."Torres!"

"What!?" She spun around, placing one hand on her hip.

_'She's damn sexy; particularly when she's riled up_.' He caught up with her and wrapped an arm around her waist, spinning her around so that they were both heading the same direction. "So, what do you think?"

"What do I think about what?" She wriggled her way out of his grasp, but continued to walk by his side.

"My proposition, Torres… pay attention. What do you think about my proposition?"

Stopping in front of the elevators, she faced him. "Have you been sipping the silicone instead of pumping it into breasts?"

Mark leaned in towards Callie and reached around her, pressing the elevator call button. As he did so, he let his eyes drift down to her ample, unenhanced chest. As he imagined her jacket, and silk top disappearing, he responded. "Not recently."

Callie unconsciously backed away from him. She hated being in enclosed areas with Sloan. It was always a bad situation – for a variety of reasons, not the least of which being that he liked to invade her space… and press HER buttons. "No sipping of silicone? Well I was giving you the benefit of the doubt. I guess that just leaves me with the 'you're loco' option."

"I've been called worse things than that, and honestly –"

"Like man-whore?"

Mark laughed, "Actually, I kind of like that one." He ushered her into the elevator as it dinged open.

"Huh! Of course you do!" She shrugged free of his grasp again, and jabbed a button.

As Torres impatiently pressed the 3rd floor button, Mark captured her arm one more time. "Meet me at Joe's, tonight – 6:30p.m."

"Let me think about that." She stood in silence at his side until the elevator finally came to a stop at her floor. "I'm done thinking – no."

"Torres, hear me out. Give me one hour tonight to explain my proposition in full, and then, I'll leave you alone if you still want to say no."

She quirked an eyebrow at him, "You'll accept my 'no' if I just agree to have a drink with you tonight?"

"If you really listen to me, and consider my full offer, and you still say 'no', I'll drop the topic."

Callie peered at his steely sexy eyes for a few seconds, searching for the joke, or the lie she was almost certain would be contained in them. Nothing. He looked completely and totally sincere.

"Okay. Fine." She slid out of his hold one last time. _What was it with his constantly touching her_? "One hour tonight, 6:30 -7:30p.m., at Joe's." She walked away calling over her shoulder, "But the answer is still going to be 'no'."

Mark watched the sexy sway of Callie's hips as the elevator doors closed. 'We'll see about that.'


	3. My Baby's Daddy

**MALLIEmalieMALLIEmallieMALLI Emallie**

Callie didn't let her surprise at finding her favorite drink sitting in front of her register on her face as she settled across from Mark in the booth he'd somehow managed to commandeer at Joe's on a busy Wednesday night. Glancing at her wrist she glanced at Sloan. "6:34p.m., you have until 7:34. Convince me." She smiled her big, gorgeous smile and picked up her drink.

Mark reminded himself to go slow. "I ordered you the nachos – chicken – they should be here in a minute."

"How -? Thank you." She ignored Mark's grin; or tried to – as much as any woman could ignore his grin. She was really going to have to find out Hahn's secret, see how she managed to keep from falling into Mark's seductive web. "Now talk, you're wasting your precious, limited time."

Mark pulled at the napkin that sat under his drink and began to fiddle with it. "I'm guessing you're about 30 years old, right?"

She paused then nodded her head in agreement.

"As you know, I'm a bit over 40. I'm in pretty good shape." He smiled as she rolled her eyes at his false, self-depreciating tone. "Okay, I'm in very good shape."

"Don't forget modest Sloan. You'll want to add modest to your list of attributes."

"Modesty is for those with little or no confidence, but as I was saying, I'm in good shape, my family stock is good…."

"Your family stock? What… are you guys cattle or something?" He raised an eyebrow in her direction. "Fine. Sorry. You come from good stock." She waved her hand in his direction as she took a sip of her drink. "Go on."

"We are basically disease-free, no big genetic issues." He paused as her nachos and his burger arrived.

"Enjoy your meals."

"Thanks."

"Thank you."

He continued as their waiter walked away. "I've never really put my sperm to the test, but I'm hoping my boys are good swimmers."

Callie eyed her nachos trying to find the best attack point. "Discussions about sperm are NOT a turn on, Mark. And, surprise, surprise, I'm hearing a lot about 'you'. Where do I come in?" She found the piece she wanted and dug in.

Mark dug into his argument at the same time, "I'm 40, and I want a kid. You're young enough, without being too young, to have kids. You come from a fairly disease free family, from what you've told me."

She smiled sarcastically, "yes, we Torres' are good stock too."

"You're smart. You're good-looking."

Callie brushed aside his compliments; he could be charming when he wanted to be – when he wanted something. "You've just described at least 10 people that I know at SG. Why aren't you hitting up Hahn, or one of the pretty little Grey's, or even sweet Izzie to have your child?"

"Just because I may want to get into their pants, doesn't mean I want to have a baby with them. You and I would make a beautiful kid together Torres; your dark curly hair, my gorgeous eyes." He winked at her. "Our progeny could take over the world."

"So you're admitting that having a child with me is just your way of planning world domination?"

He laughed before relaxing against the vinyl cushions. "I want you to carry my child because I'm ready to have kids; and you're at a great age for having kids. You're smart, beautiful, we get along well together -."

"We do?"

He winked at her. "I know you find me fascinating."

"It's your delusions of grandeur that I find fascinating."

Mark leaned across the table. "Seriously Torres, you'd make a wonderful mom, and I want that for my kid."

That was the first thing Sloan had said that really tugged at her, that made her consider – fleetingly – the idea of carrying his child. She had the thought, but like she'd said, it was very, very fleeting.

"Okay, the 'wonderful mom' thing knocks a few people off of the list, but, still, there're at least 5 people in our immediate circle that you could knock up who'd make great moms."

"Yeah, but they don't understand me. They don't get me. You get me."

"Lucky, lucky me." She pulled a particularly cheesy piece of tortilla off of the plate, wrapping the salsa, chicken and sour cream with the loose strands of cheese and popped the whole thing into her mouth.

_'Eating nachos shouldn't look so damn sexy_.' Mark silently added 'sexy' to the list of reasons to impregnate Torres.

"So what's in this deal for me?" She eyed him over her drink.

"You mean other than the whole 'creating a new being' and giving birth stuff?"

She raised an eyebrow in his direction.

"Okay. You get a child. And you get a regular Sloan injection, at least until you're pregnant."

"I thought you were supposed to be selling me on this idea Mark, not turning me against it."

"Don't act like you don't want me Torres. Lying doesn't come naturally to you."

"Unlike you, who can lie more convincingly than a rug?"

"Everyone has talents Torres. Everyone has talents."

She shook her head and moved them back on topic. "Honestly, Mark, offers of regular sex with you **really** isn't reason enough to bear your child." She smiled as she delivered her next statement. "I'm sorry, but you're not that good."

Mark lifted an eyebrow.

"Call 'em like I see 'em big boy." Callie threw back the last of her drink.

And Mark threw out his trump card. "I've been added to the Residency Evaluation Committee – a 4 year commitment. As you know, the committee not only chooses residents for the hospital, they choose departmental rotation, and they evaluate final year Residents for positions at the hospital. Have my child, and I can guarantee you top-spot ortho rotations and a job at SG at the end of your last year."

Callie's jaw dropped. "You, you're… you've got to be kidding me!"

"I'll draw up a contract – we'll draw up a contract – outlining one another's responsibilities. And I'll agree to guarantee you placement on SG's staff – after you complete your residency and after you have my child."

Somewhere in the back of her mind Callie had thought, maybe, that Mark was really kidding, that this whole 'have my baby' thing was actually a joke. Looking at his face, listening to what he was offering, she was suddenly very aware that he was dead serious.

"Okay. We're done. Adios." Callie reached for her purse and started to slide out of the booth when Mark reached out his hand and grabbed her arm.

"Torres, I still have 40 minutes."

"Do you have any sane reasons to recommend this stupid idea?"

"It's not stupid. You just need to think about it."

"Mark, you're asking a co-worker," she rephrased her statement as she saw him open his mouth to contradict her. "Okay, you're asking a _friend_ to," she ticked the facts off on her fingers, "have sex with you and bear your child. In return you're offering: sex, a child, and to fraudulently give that _friend_ a job at the hospital. You don't see anything wrong with this situation?

"Do you have a boyfriend now?"

"What?!"

"Six, small, little words, Torres:  Do. You. have. A. Boyfriend.now?"

She sighed. "No."

"And I don't have a girlfriend at the moment, so neither one of us would be messing with the emotions of any 'boyfriends/girlfriends'. Did you," he grinned, utterly aware of the answer to his next question. "Did you enjoy our night together?"

Callie pursed her lips together and bit out a quick little 'Yes."

"So having sex with me wouldn't be a trial or a hardship."

Callie kept her mouth shut with an effort.

"Do you want to have children?"

"Yes, but –"

"No 'buts'. You want a child. I want a child. We both want the same thing."

"But –"

"Do you want to work at Seattle Grace when you complete your residency?"

"Yes, but –"

"I can make that happen."

"By cheating!"

He ignored her exclamation. "Are you a good doctor?"

"I'm a damn good doctor."

"Yes you are. So you **are** planning on successfully completing your Residency, right?"

"Yes, but -"

"So, I'm just offering to insure that you get what you deserve. What you've worked so hard to achieve."

"But, – and I swear if you stop me from speaking one more time, I'm going to kick you in the balls."

Mark smiled but kept his mouth shut.

"But I don't want to… to cheat to get my placement at SG." She stared at the handsome man who was trying to bribe her into being the mother of his child. "Seriously Sloan, your case of Mimbo Syphilis must have finally reached your brain if you think that I would even consider making this kind of 'deal with the devil'."

"Callie…"

She hated it when he used her first name. It was so… so much more intimate than 'Torres'.

"Think about it. Wouldn't our son be beautiful?"

"Our 'daughter' would be a knock-out." She responded, "But having your child and fixing the Residency vote in my favor, eso no es bueno."

"Our SON could be bilingual!"

She groaned. "Sloan…"

"Don't make up your mind tonight. It's Wednesday, give me your decision on Friday."

"But we already know I'm going –"

"Torres… Friday."

"Remind me to kick in the balls later on."

"Was that 'kick' or 'kiss'?"

"Fine, Sloan, I'll tell you on Friday that I don't want you to be my baby's daddy." Callie ignored Sloan's amused stare, and raised her hand to order another drink from the waiter.

**MALLIEmalieMALLIEmallieMALLI Emallie**

Do you have any idea how many pregnant women there are within 100 feet of you on any given day? Tons. Tons and tons and tons. Small bellied, big bellied, glowing, happy, pregnant women. Add to the pregnant women the plethora of mothers and fathers wandering around with toddlers and pink and blue swathed bundles of joy, and it's literally impossible to make it through an hour- especially in a hospital – without seeing pretty little happy 'mini-me's' and their pretty, glowing, happy parents. All day yesterday, and all of today, Callie had been surrounded by irritatingly attractive examples of pregnancy, parenting, and cute, tiny adorable children.

She slammed down the clipboard she was holding as yet another vision of familial bliss strolled past her. "I luff my new brutha mommy." A little girl lisped as she walked alongside her mother's wheelchair as they headed toward the entrance of the hospital – dad proudly pushing the chair that contained his wife and their new child.

Callie turned back to the nurse's station with a small swear. Shaking her head with a sigh she muttered softly, 'Are you telling me you want me to have lots of wild sex with Mark Sloan? That you want me to give birth to a child out of wedlock? That you WANT me to help make a mini-Sloan?' Callie waited impatiently for God to answer her. The sound of a couple of the nurses behind the desk squealing and yelping happily was the only answer she got. But it was irritatingly, answer enough.

"Oh my God! Angie, when are you guys due?! I'm so happy for you!"

Callie groaned and hung her head.

Beyond the exasperating examples of motherhood that she was for some reason being exposed to, Callie had also had two realllllly bad days at the hospital. First, a patient, an elderly woman with a 'simple' hip replacement surgery had died on the table. Heart failure. She'd been a sweet old lady. Fiesty, outgoing, friendly. She'd reminded Callie of her own abuela. Her death wasn't caused by negligence, but there would still be an investigation into the surgery and Callie's performance; an investigation that would temporarily go on Callie's record.

And then there was the whole George and Izzie thing, for the last two days they had been all over one another. It was like someone had slipped a 'fuck in public' pill into their water or something. She swore, if she had to see one more instance of the two of them cooing and rubbing up against one another, she was going to cut her eyes out. Public displays of affection ought to be outlawed; unless she was the one who was doing the displaying.

She smiled wryly. _Mark would be good for displaying affection with._ Her smile faded into a frown. Damnit, she couldn't believe she was actually thinking about accepting Sloan's offer.


	4. Crap and Capitulation

**MalliemallieMalliemallieMall iemallie**

It was the extra day that did it. 24 little hours - not even - changed everything.

Friday evening found Callie impatiently waiting for Sloan to get off duty. At 8:00 pm, she was still sitting in the doctor's lounge, twisting a curl at the bottom of her hair around her finger, expectantly waiting for him to come through the door. _'Any minute now. Really.'_ They were both scheduled to get off duty at 7, so she was pretty certain that in just another minute she'd see his handsome, know-it-all, smile burst through the door.

Finally, at 830pm the door opened and… Bailey walked in, plopping down at a table with a sigh.

"Bailey?"

"No."

"No?"

"Whatever you want: I'm not doing it, you can't have it, and I don't want it. 'No'."

Callie let out a laugh. Bailey sounded a bit like her… or rather how she planned to sound when she found Mark. Speaking of which. "I was just wondering if you knew where Sloan is?"

"Do I look like his keeper?"

"Bailey, you know everything. You're our own personal, omniscient, wizard of oz."

Bailey snorted and picked up the book she'd brought into the break room with her. "He's in surgery."

"Still!?"

"Apparently the Smythe reconstruction is turning out to be a tricky one; they've had a few complications. From where they were in the process when I last checked on them, I don't see that crew getting done for another couple of hours."

"Son of a bitch!"

Bailey looked up and raised a brow.

"Sorry. Son of a bastard!"

"That's better." Bailey smiled and refocused on her book.

Callie knew there was nothing Mark could do about a surgery being more complicated or difficult than planned, but, well…, being selfish, she really wanted to get her 'no way/no how' speech over and done with.

...While she still had her nerve.

On the other hand, the thought of waiting around the hospital for another hour or so, just to tell him 'no', was NOT appealing. So she gave in to reality and exhaustedly headed home, promising herself that she'd hunt him down tomorrow and knock some sense back into his pretty little head.

It wasn't until her own head was drifting comfortably into her pillow that it occurred to her, somewhere in the back of her mind, that she could have just left a voicemail message for Sloan on his phone. With a yawn she snuggled deeper into her bed and drifted asleep. _'Tomorrow_.'

**_MalliemallieMallie_ **

Yup, it was the extra day that did it.

Callie woke up and her first thoughts were of Mark. Not 'Mark's a bastard' thoughts. Not 'Mark's crazier than a blue dandelion' thoughts. No. They were 'Mark probably would be a wonderful dad' thoughts. Followed quickly by 'I wonder what our child _would_ look like?' thoughts.

These thoughts ran through her mind as she turned over in the bed, hugging her cool body pillow to her stomach. And a small smile lazed its way across her face as a vision of Mark's strong arms holding a small blanketed bundle appeared in her head.

Her eyes fluttered open and she stared at the wall. _'Oh, crap_!'

She spent the rest of the morning shuffling around the apartment, trying to knock that vision, and those thoughts out of her head. In between knocking her head against the wall, she dialed Mark's number, leaving him 5: 'call me'… 'call me now'… ' you better not be ignoring me because you have a woman in your bed… call me' messages.

It was noon before her phone chirped back at her.

She stood looking down at the caller id. _Mark_.

A voice inside of her head taunted her. _'So Calliope, why aren't you diving for that phone and telling the handsome, naughty, delicious Dr. Sloan 'no'_?'

"Oh shut up." Callie muttered out loud before reaching for the phone and flipping it open.  "Hello."

"Cal. Hi, sorry, I didn't get your messages until I woke up. I had my phone off."

_'He sounds tired. Really tired.'_

Her resolve melted… just a tiny bit more.

"So how did the Smythe surgery go?" Callie sat on the couch, lifting her feet up onto the cushions and curling onto her side. _'Why are you chatting with him? Why aren't you just saying 'no' and hanging up?'_

She heard Mark groan and somewhere in the background, she heard the faint sound of a door. "It was probably one of the hardest facial reconstructions I've ever seen. The jaw line, nose, an eye… everything was like putty – the not good kind. Neuro had a hard time too. We're still not certain if she's going to get feeling and full muscle control back to that side of her face." Mark paused. "She looks pretty good though – aesthetically I mean. She won't spend her whole life being ostracized because she looks different from all the other little girls."

It was when he did these kinds of surgeries, the reconstructions due birth defects or accidents that Callie saw another side to Mark. The side that suggested that becoming a doctor wasn't all glam and money to him. That he cared. That he had the capacity to care. _'Crap_.'

She snuggled lower into the couch. "So what time did you get home at?"

"3… 315."

"Three!" She heard a soft 'ding' over the phone.

"I made the small mistake of trying to cut through the ER to get to the parking lot."

Callie smiled. "You got caught?" Doctors knew better than to go through ER for anything. It never ended well.

"Yeah, accident on the L50, 5 car pile up. They grabbed anyone who even looked like medical staff to help with the bodies being brought in. So, yeah." He yawned. "I just got up an hour ago."

Callie heard another ding echo over the phone lines.

"And I listened to your messages… all four of them –"

"Five. I left five messages."

He chuckled. "Sorry, 'five'. I listened to them, jumped in the shower...."

Pictures of Mark naked, in the shower skipped through her mind.

"And then I jumped in my car, and now…."

_Knock knock knock_

"Now I'm standing outside of your apartment door."

Callie shot up from her prone position. "Are you kidding me?!" She asked the question, but she knew he wasn't kidding. This was so completely a Mark thing to do. To make her tell him 'no' face to face when she was positively, absolutely, hanging on to her 'no' by a thread. "Crap!"

She flipped the phone shut, bent her elbows on her knees and put her head in her hands. "Damn, damn, damn, damn. Damn!"

_'I can do this. I can say no. I have to say no.'_

She jumped up from the couch and headed to the door. Taking a deep breath she flipped the locks and pulled it open.

Mark grinned at her lazily. Exhaustedly and lazily.

His eyes were a little bloodshot, and they drooped with lack of sleep. But, yeah, he was still managing to be the sexiest man she'd ever seen.

"Can I come in?"

Callie silently stepped aside. _'Just say no. It's a gooooood slogan.'_

"Mark, what are you doing here?"

"I forgot to tell you that I stopped off for bagels and coffee." He waved the bag and beverage carrier she'd failed to notice in front of her. "Living room?"

"Fine, but I'll have you know, bribery doesn't work on me."

He smiled. "Sure it does. It works on everyone."

"Your moral compass points due south doesn't it?"

"When you look as good as you do now, everything in, on, and around me points due north."

She glanced down at the flannel, men's pj bottoms, and the red tank top that she'd fallen asleep in. Crossing her arms protectively, self-consciously, over her chest she fought back a blush. "Yeah, well, YOU don't look so good. Bloodshot eyes are not good-looking."

He grinned, the laugh lines around his eyes crinkling and making her want to take back her words.  "Torres," he sat down on the couch, placing the bag of bagels and the coffee on the table, "Baby, you KNOW I make any and everything look good."

"Pfft." She crossed to the other side of the couch and sat down next to him. She could smell the scent of his cologne and the soap he'd used in his shower.  Picking up the drink he'd brought for her, she drowned out his scent with that of the coffee. There was something truly unfair about having a man around who: looked good, smelled good, and who wanted to procreate with you.

"So, Torres."

"So, Sloan."

"Wanna make a baby?"

She studied him over the top of her cup. "Let's just say, for shits and giggles, that I agree to your stupid proposition."

Sloan edged imperceptibly closer to her. "Yes?"

"You weren't kidding about us having a contract, were you?"

"Not at all. You can have a lawyer help you draft one, but you might just find it easier to have someone review the one I've written up." He subtly inched even closer. Which was difficult for him – Mark didn't usually do subtle all that well.

She ignored the fact that he already seemed to be prepared for her to capitulate. Mark was built with confidence in every molecule of his being. Of course he'd assume he'd get his way. Again. "So I would have equal control over what the boundaries and rules are right?"

"You can have control, Cal. I like it when the woman's on top."

_'Was he closer than he had been before…? And really, he DID somehow make bloodshot eyes, tired eyes seem sexy…! Maybe she could write in the contract that he couldn't call her Cal or Callie? Cuz really, the way her name sounded when it was on his lips….'_

"Cal?"

_'CRAP! I was staring at his lips! The lips that are most definitely closer than they'd been before.'_ Callie lifted her hand to Mark's chest and pressed against it; holding him firmly at a distance. "What do you think you're doing Dr. Sloan?"

"I thought we could, maybe, tentatively seal this little deal with a kiss." His victory smile was in place.

"I haven't said 'yes' yet."

" _Yet_ … _yet_ , it's only a matter of time, Torres." He grinned even wider.

_'Crap_.' She let her arm relax a bit, taking some of the pressure she had on his chest disappear. "You know Sloan, one of these days, someone is going to come along and wipe that evil grin off of your face."

Mark removed the few remaining inches that separated them; Callie's arm curved between both of their chests. "What do you say we practice wiping it off right now?"

He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, much more softly than she'd expected. The kiss was tentative, and teasing, and absolutely mind blowing all at once. _'Oh crap, I'm in so much fucking trouble!'_

As he nibbled at Callie's lips, Mark whispered against her skin. "So what do you say, Callie?"

"… yes."


	5. Fall For

**MalliemallieMalliemallieMall iemallie**

"As your lawyer, I have to advise you that some of the more questionable sections of this document may not hold up in court; making the whole thing null and void if she decides to fight you at any point."

Mark opened his mouth as Ted continued.

"As your long time friend, I have to say, your plan is just stupid."

"So I've been told."

"And still… you insist on doing this?"

"I – I want a kid, Ted."

"Egg donors. Surrogate moms. One night stands…."

"Yeah, the kicker is, I want a Torres-Sloan child."

"Why this woman?" Ted settled behind his desk and studied the half smile that Mark didn't even seem to know he was smiling.

"She's one of a kind."

"Aren't they all? Doesn't it bother you that she may only be doing this to get a placement at the hospital?"

The smile faded from Mark's face and he stood up. "Every one has a price. And while it would be great to get this whole thing done for free…." He paced in front of Ted's desk. "Besides, I'm asking for a lot. And my side of the bargain is the easy side. I get to have sex with Callie," He glanced at Ted, "Not exactly a distasteful task. But she's the one who has 9 months of pregnancy, a shit-load of hours of giving birth. And anyway, she's a good doctor; it's a fair price."

Ted leaned back in his chair with a crow of laughter. "You LIKE her!"

"Kind of hard not to," Sloan brushed off Ted's suggestive tone. "She's a likeable woman. Smart, funny, almost as witty as me." He gave a cocky grin.

"Yeah, no. You REALLY like her." Ted's voice held a note of awe. He'd known Mark for years. Since way before the whole Addison thing, and historically, Mark was a loner. Oh, he always had women and people hanging off of him. But the closest most of them truly got was the skin. Mark didn't open up easily, or often. "Why don't you fucking, I don't know, 'court' her, or date her, or something?"

Mark ignored the first part of Ted's statement. "Callie doesn't do dates. At least, not with me. 'No' is her favorite word when it comes to me."

"Okay. Well now I just HAVE to meet this woman! Someone who has dared to tell the great Mark Sloan 'no'?"

Mark chuckled and glanced at his wrist. "You'll get to meet her in 5 minutes."

Just as he spoke, however, the door to Ted's office was knocked on, and a second later, an anxious looking Callie Torres let herself in.

She flicked her eyes at Mark and then down to her own wrist. "Am I late?"

"Party never starts until you arrive, Torres."

She rolled her eyes.

"Calliope Torres – Theodore Barthel. Theodore Barthel – Calliope Torres."

As she shook Ted's hand she lifted a brow and smiled at him. "Tell you what, I won't call you Theodore, if you don't call me Calliope."

Ted laughed as he responded, "Definite deal. Call me Ted."

"Callie."

"So, Callie, are we just waiting for your lawyer now?"

"Nope. I'm lawyerless. Representing myself."

"Are you sure? I know a few lawyers outside of the firm who –"

"My father has more lawyers on retainer than Howard Stern. I," She spared a quick look in Mark's direction, "I trust Mark. More or less."

"Be still my beating heart," Mark responded.

"Heart? Beating? You?" She deadpanned.

"Oh, I like this one already, Mark!"

"I'm so happy," he responded dryly. Turning his attention to Callie, Mark reiterated Ted's question. "Are you sure you don't want to have your lawyer look this over Cal?"

_'Cal. Cal. I am going to have to stop him from doing that. Cal is… it's just too….'_ "Honestly, the less people who know about the specifics of this little deal of ours, the better." Settling into one of the chairs in front of Ted's desk she pulled a pen out of her bag and held her hands out to get a copy of the contract to review.

Ted glanced surreptitiously at Mark as Callie settled in to a chair. _So this was the woman who Mark wanted to have a child with? The woman he was attracted to? Where was the glacial blonde? The hot-redhead? While Make had 'dated' a wide variety of women – blondes, brunettes, black, Asian – they all tended to be model thin, petite or slender. Callie Torres wasn't that. While she was undeniably beautiful, she was also curvy. Voluptuous. Not the type Mark usually dragged into his bed; much less, fell for._

_This was going to be interesting._

**MalliemallieMalliemallieMall iemallie**

"No way. No way! You can be there at the birth, I'll – I'll go to the doctor for testing and all of that, but there is no way I'm moving. I just moved out of Yang's and into my new apartment a few months ago! And if you think I'm going to let you tell me what to eat, you have another think coming!" Callie's dark eyes flashed as she glanced at Ted. "He's insane." Her eyes flew back to Mark, "You're insane!"

Ted muttered, "Personally, I think this whole idea is crazy, but –"

"Enough with the 'Mark is crazy' crap. This is a workable idea. It's a sensible plan. Torres… Callie, it makes sense that you move in with me. Pregnancy isn't easy, having someone around who can help you when you've got sore feet, or if you need to get to a doctor's appointment..., I'll make your life easier.

"After you make my life a living hell."

Sloan continued as if she hadn't spoken. "And as the contract suggests, after you've had the baby, during those first three months, I'll be on Family Leave and we can both share the duties of raising our son."

"Daughter," Callie muttered.

"And prior to your getting pregnant, sharing the same space will make our 'conceiving' a child a lot easier."  He waggled his eyebrows,  "Easy access."

Callie snorted.

"And I won't tell you what to eat. I just want to help you eat the right things; to help with conception and then with the pregnancy – folic acid, etc."

"Folic acid my a –"

"Okay. How about a compromise here," Ted interrupted quickly. "You both watch what you eat. If Callie has to eat special meals… so do you. As for the housing situation. I'm going to recommend that you both move. Fresh, neutral terrain for you both. No one encroaching on the other one's territory. Equal footing for each of you."

Callie looked at Ted, then at Mark, then back at Ted. "Actually, those aren't bad suggestions. If I have to suffer, so does Mark."

"Thanks buddy." The sarcasm in Mark's voice was tangible.

"No problem buddy." Ted grinned.

Standing up, Callie joined Ted in his grin, "Well, gentlemen, if we're done here."

Ted stood up and leaned across his desk to shake her hand. "I'll make the recommended changes, and FedEx them over to you both sometime tomorrow."

"Thanks Ted. Mark, I'll see you tomorrow."


	6. After, Before and Sometimes During

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BTW in my AU Mark and Callie have only 'gotten it on' once… that time when she was with George.

**MalliemallieMalliemallieMall iemallie**

"You're fucking kidding me right? I mean, Sweetie, you _have_ to be kidding me." Addison waited on the phone for Callie to break into peals of laughter and confirm her hopes. Instead of laughter, all she heard was silence.

"Calliope Iphigenia Torres! Have you lost your mind?!"

"I –"

"Never mind, of course you've lost your mind. That's the only viable explanation for the words that just came out of your mouth! That or you've been doped." Addison paused hopefully, "Tell me you've been doped?"

"I can send a sample of my pee to you via FedEx if you'd like."

"Yeah, thanks but no thanks… keep your pee for your ObGyn. Seriously Callie, what the hell?! You and Mark? Having a baby?"

"Well when you say it that way, it doesn't sound a great plan."

"Honey, it doesn't sound like a good plan no matter _how_ I say it. Listen, I know that Mark can be sexy, and I know he could manipulate his way into the Queen of England's pants, but Sweetie, you KNOW better than to agree to mate with the Devil."

Callie plopped down on the edge of bed with a laugh, "HA! I told him he was a devil too!" She sobered up quickly and threw herself onto her back. "Is he really that bad? I mean, I know he's a player, but … I've seen him around patients, and sometimes… sometimes I think I see something more."

Addison sighed. "No, he's not really that bad. Not all the time. There are times that I remember him doing things that made my toes curl – and I'm not talking about his sexual prowess, although, that **is** fucking toe curling too. You're right, he does care about his patients, and he can be very caring to the people who are in his life, but Calliedoll, that's also what makes him so dangerous. Mark's like a dog. He'll lick and snuggle and curl his way into your life until you think he's the sweetest, safest puppy you've ever met. And just when you've let your guard down, he'll bite; or, more accurately, in Mark's case he'll fuck some other in-heat bitch. And, honestly, you can't even blame him, because you know – you knew the whole time – that he was a dog… It's his nature."

"So I won't let my guard down."

"So you'll sleep with him. You'll live with him. You'll be impregnated by him. But you won't fall for him?"

"Right."

"Wrong. Callie… this is Addy you're talking to. Next to your family, I'm probably the person who knows you best. I KNOW what a fucking softy you are. Hard, crunchy shell on the outside, soft smooshy, spinelessness on the inside."

"Gee, thanks Add. I'll just pick my ego up off of the floor now and brush you footprint off of it."

"I'm sorry Hun, but you know I'm right. You're a fucking softy. Mark could eat you alive – if you let him."

"So I won't let him. I'm tougher than I look."

"You're getting defensive."

"You're attacking my hard crunchy shell."

Addison laughed. "You know I love you, right?"

"So 'build' my confidence up; tell me I'm a tough-ass bitch, and that Mark is the one who's in trouble – the one who's doing the stupid thing."

"Well Mark **will** be in trouble if even _thinks_ about trying to bite my Callie."

"That wasn't quite the ego boost I was looking for, but I guess I'll have to take what I can get from you."

"Would it help if I told you that I think you stand a better chance at training Mark than I did?"

"Huh?"

"You're probably more what he needs in his life than I was."

"I'm not trying to be in his life."

"Says the woman who's moving in with him, who's going to have hot monkey-lovin' sex with him, and who's going to bear his child."

"Okay, I'm going to rephrase that. I'm not going to be in his life _for long_. Not long enough for me to train him to do anything."

Addison was silent for a couple of seconds. "Maybe… maybe you're already starting to train him. I have to admit, this isn't a move that I would ever have associated with Mark…. Kids are not a plan, or a dream that I ever heard him express an interest in. I mean, he was always nice to kids – never pushed them out of the way to get to the dessert bar or anything – but he never particularly seemed to want any. So why now?"

"He hit forty." Callie rolled off of the bed.

"Well, okay, so he's early mid-life crisis-ing. Why you? I mean, honestly, Mark has his pick of women."

"Gee, thanks! Remind me **not** to call you if I'm ever on the fence about committing suicide!"

Addison laughed loudly. "I'm actually complimenting you… sort of. What I'm trying to get at is that Mark chose you. Mr. Mimbo, man-whore, sex-god, chose _you_ to be his, well, his… mate."

Callie groaned.

"He didn't choose me. He didn't choose Meredith, or Hahn, or Busy-ass, dizzy Miss Izzie..., he chose _you._ "

"Maybe he thought – thinks – that I'm an easier target than the other women he knows. Which kind of brings us back around to your crunchy/softy theory again." Callie moved to stand in front of the full length mirror attached to the back of her bedroom door. She turned to the side and sucked her stomach in. _Seriously, what would Mark see in her that he couldn't see in some other woman_?

"Doll, maybe it means something else. I can't believe I'm about to say this, but maybe Mark likes you. _Likes you_ likes you."

"Yeah… right. Well," She relaxed her tummy muscles, "he's not going to get a chance to bite me or 'like' me. My guard is up. I'm a tough-ass bitch, and Mark Sloan is nothing but a… a means to an end for me."

"Right. So that's why you asked the lawyer guy to make that change in the contract? So that you could get the 'ends' that you want?"

"Shut up. I couldn't live with myself with that in the contract."

"And Mark doesn't know you made the change?"

Callie pulled her hair out of the ponytail she'd put it up in minutes ago. "No. I told Ted that I wouldn't sign the contract at all if he told Mark about the change. And as it takes out the legally questionable part of the contract – the part that isn't in his client and friend's favor – he agreed."

"So you're getting 'what' out of this deal?"

"Shut up, Montgomery."

"Will you guys consider naming your third child after me?" Addison teased.

"For a woman who thought I was insane just a few minutes ago, you've jumped on the 'they'll have 3 kids, a dog, and a picket fence' bandwagon awfully quickly."

"The two of you make so little sense that you actually make _total_ sense. It's kind of like the whole black and white thing."

"The black and white thing?"

"Mmm hmm, black and white are nothing alike, but they're fucking beautiful when they're put together. They 'complete' one another. White is never quite as brilliantly amazing as when it's next to black. And black, black absolutely kicks ass when it's placed next to white. They bring the best out of one another. I can kind of see you and Mark bringing out the best in one another; if you can get past the whole 'Mark makes every female he knows want to kill him' thing."

"You two really do have a love-hate relationship, don't you?"

"More hate than love, but yeah. Hang on for a sec, I need to get a glass of wine."

Callie started digging through her closet as she waited for Addison to come back to the phone. She needed to find something to wear for her outing with Mark that afternoon, they were going to –

"You two are going apartment hunting together today?"

"Yes."

"Girl, you're domesticating him!"

"It's part of the contract."

"Mark Sloan doesn't do anything he doesn't want to do."

"Everybody does stuff they don't want to do."

"Not Sloan. He uses his snake-like wiggling to get himself out of anything he doesn't want to do. He's a tough cookie."

"What? He's hard and crunchy through and through, but I'm a softy on the inside?"

"I'm never going to live that down am I?"

"No. And remember, revenge is sweet. When I call you 'red-headed demon from hell' –"

"– I'll grin and take a fucking bow."

"You're incorrigible."

"And yet, you still love me!"

"I do. But look, I have to go. I have to get ready for our apartment hunt."

"Wait. Wait. One more quick question."

"Shoot."

"So when are you going to start working on making a baby?"

"What?"

" _Fucking_! Don't make me get crass on your ass! When are you and Mark going to start getting it on?"

"I'm hanging up now."

"C'mon, throw your girl a bone. I call you when I've gotten some. Or when I plan to get some."

"And sometimes when you're in the middle of getting some."

"Jamal. Mmmm… he was good! Hmm, I wonder where I put his number."

"Good-bye, Addison."

"Bye, sweetie. Call me after you've started knocking boots with Mr. Sexy."

**MalliemallieMalliemallieMall iemallie**

She was flitting. He'd never thought she would be the flitting type, but she was. Callie Torres was flitting her way around the kitchen of the apartment they were viewing; opening cabinets, opening drawers, testing the faucet. She was flitting like a fucking butterfly; a fucking beautiful, caramel, cream, and chocolate butterfly.

He watched her as she questioned the rental agent about everything under the sun.

Her hair was down, the soft curly waves cascading along her back. She was beautiful: curved where a woman should be curved, strong and soft, sexy and absolutely adorable, all at the same time. As she walked past him to take a look at the pantry, she flashed him that brilliant smile of hers and he fought back the urge to pull her into his arms. Instead, he kept his hands tucked behind him as he leaned against the kitchen door frame.  He'd have to bide his time or none of this would work. She was already skittish.

"Sloan?"

"Hmmm?" He dragged his eyes up from her legs and refocused them on her face.

"We were wondering if you have a kitchen table. I love the openness of this kitchen, you know, how it opens up into the family room space, but if you have a table that you want to use, there isn't probably going to be a lot of room for it. What do you think?"

"I think if you like the apartment, I like the apartment." His eyes remained settled on hers, and he watched as a pretty little flush crept up her neck. He was a big fan of the Torres' flush. Getting her hot and bothered was good in so many ways. Her soft, vulnerable side shone through whenever she was hot and bothered.

Now if he could just read her mind and figure out exactly which buttons **worked** on her…. The physical ones, he had. The verbal ones… he was still learning.

"Well, maybe we should just add this apartment to the short list?"

The rental agent twittered and fawned over Callie, realizing which member of this couple had the final say-so on purchasing. "Let me show you the patio feature over here, you're just going to die."

Playfully placing her hand on Mark's arm, Callie whispered, "you will revive me if I 'just die', won't you?" With a grin, she dropped her hand and trailed the wiry sales woman out of the kitchen.

"If being around you and not touching you doesn't kill me first, yeah I'll revive you." Mark mumbled quietly to himself before following Callie's subtle perfume out of the room.


	7. Manly Men

**MalliemallieMalliemallieMall iemallie**

"I can't fucking believe this." Cristina stuffed more books into the box sitting on the ground in front of her.

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I know helping me move – again – probably isn't anywhere on your list of fun."

"Huh? Oh, no. My idea of fun involves chocolate pudding, Tyson Beckford, and Brad Pitt." Yang paused and cocked her head to the side. "Or chocolate pudding, Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt."

"Yang!" Callie snorted.

"What?!" Cristina threw back the last of her second glass of wine. "I don't care what people say about her lifestyle, she is one sexy bitch!"

"Well **you're** definitely not a homophobe."

"Naw. Sex equals pleasure, and pleasure can be given by men or women. Now, personally, I like a good cock, but, I'm not going to begrudge anyone else from getting their jollies where-ever they can find them."

"Who knew you were so philosophical!" Callie teased and shook her head.

"I know! Why are people always giving me shit!? I know exactly what I'm talking about!" She reached for the bottle of wine. "Most of the time." She continued speaking as she poured the clear golden liquid out. "Anyway, I wasn't bitching about helping you move. You've got alcohol and pizza on tap for me. It's all good."

"So what _were_ you bitching about?"

Cristina started to seal the box in front of her with packing tape. "I'm bitching about you giving me this kick ass, delicious dish about you and Sloan shacking up together, and you wanting me to keep it a secret!"

"Not to resort to threats or anything but, I know what – or should I say 'who' – you were in the supply closet with three weeks ago."

Yang stared at Callie for a second then bluffed. "What? Two people can't be in need of supplies at the same time?"

"Not for a solid 30 minutes they can't." Callie got up as her doorbell buzzed. Before she opened the door, she turned back to Cristina. "Is my secret safe?"

"Yes. Damn you." Yang answered sadly. Secrets SO were not her thing.

"I knew I could count on you," Callie said as she opened the door with a smirk.

"Torres." Mark's eyes swept over her figure in that all-devouring way that he had.

"Sloan." She fought to hide the shiver that ran through her body. _'Down girl, he's just a man_!'

"Callie! Nice to see you again." Ted leaned in and gave her a friendly hug.

"You too. Come in! Welcome to 'cardboard box hell', aka, my home." As the men entered her apartment Callie delivered introductions. "Ted Barthel, Cristina Yang. Cristina, Ted."

Yang leapt up from her spot on the floor and stepped forward to shake Ted's hand. As she did so, she turned to Callie. "I know you said you were going to have some testosterone filled moving help, but you never told me he'd be tall, hot and blond."

"My bad."

Cristina turned back to the owner of the hand she was still gripping. "I'm 5.6, drug and disease free, and very single."

"Don't forget beautiful." Ted responded before turning to Mark and asking, "Are all of the women at Seattle Grace as gorgeous as these two?"

Before Mark had a chance to answer, Cristina piped up again, "Mmmm, I like this one already; cute AND a flatterer. Flattery will get you everywhere with me."

Callie moved a box off of a chair, "A bottle of beer will get you everywhere with her too."

"Hey! Don't give away my secrets to the fresh meat!"

**MalliemallieMalliemallieMall iemallie**

Two hours later found Ted and Mark grousing, yet flexing their muscles, as they carried box after box of belongings out of Callie's apartment and into their respective cars. The 'real' movers would be at her place tomorrow to move the big stuff, along with anything she didn't manage to get out of the place today, but Callie's goal was to get as much done herself – with friend labor – as possible.

Ted elbowed Mark as the two of them headed back down the hallway to Callie's apartment. " – all I'm saying, is that you have it bad."

"I don't have anything."

"You haves the hots for Callie."

"Do I think she's hot? Yes. Will I enjoy every second of getting her pregnant? Yeah, I will. That's it. There's nothing more to it."

"Buddy, she has you doing manual labor here. You didn't even do your own moving shit and yet, she somehow has you doing hers."

Mark had informed Callie that he was definitively, categorically, and without a doubt having movers move _everything_ in his home. And he had. They'd even packed a few boxes for him. Every item he owned had been moved by ACE moving. Well, every item that is except for his collection of vintage Playboy magazines. Those, he'd informed her, he had moved himself. Her response to his declaration had been: 'Vintage my ass.'

Ted continued, pulling Mark out of his reverie, "Your observant friend 'moi' has also seen the way you've been looking at her all afternoon."

"Ted, you're not still smoking weed are you?"

"Hey! I haven't done any of that shit since college. I'm just pointing out the facts man."

"Well you need glasses or something. There have been no special glances or special 'looks' exchanged between Callie and me."

Ted retorted just as Mark opened Callie's door, "I didn't say anything about _her_ looking at you man."

"Asshole." Mark chuckled.

"Certified," Ted grinned.

"What are you two boys giggling about?" Callie made her way out of the kitchen, finally happy that it was clean enough.

"Uh, manly men here; we don't giggle Torres."

"Manly men?" She raised a brow.

"I'd be happy to provide visual proof of that fact for you right now if you'd like." Mark reached for the zipper of his jeans.

"No!" Callie held up her hand and turned her head away with a flush.

"All right!" Yang sat on the arm of Callie's couch and stared avidly at Sloan's pants.

"Yang!" Callie 'casually' stepped in front of Mark, effectively cutting off Cris's view of Sloan's 'Nether regions'. She then did her best to ignore Mark's quiet laughter.

"What?" Cristina quirked an eyebrow, "He's McSteamy! If he's offering, I'm looking!"

"McSteamy?" Ted turned to Mark. "Your nickname is McSteamy?"

"And Manwhore." Callie added.

"Don't forget Mimbo." Yang chirped dryly.

"Jesus, Mark, I'm kinda ashamed that I only managed to come up with Skankman."

**MalliemallieMalliemallieMalliemallie**

Callie gently closed the door; listening to the sounds of Yang and Ted laughing as they headed down the sidewalk and out into the night. They'd helped her move as many of her things as they could and were now leaving her and Mark to their unpacking.

Reaching up, she slowly engaged the door locks. She was deliberately taking her time; putting off the inevitable… putting off having to be alone with Mark. Just being near him for the past few hours had been – unnerving. The man was just… just… _'Oh just admit it, Torres, Sloan es muy caliente.'_

She sighed. He was even hot when he was all sweaty from carrying boxes to and from the cars. She pulled up a memory of him stripping off his shirt prior to lifting a box full of books. _'Oh yeah, sweaty Mark… mmmmm._ ' Callie turned around and leaned against the door. _'Crap! How the hell am I going to get through a year – or more – of being in an enclosed space with him?_ ' She looked down at the piles of boxes littering the front hall of her – their – new home. Of course, the enclosed space that they would be in wasn't exactly a 5x10 cell; It was a house. They'd leased a fricking house! It hadn't been part of her plans, or part of Mark's plans, but, in a last ditch sales effort their rental agent had convinced them to 'take a look' at the three bedroom house in Yarrow Bay. They'd hesitantly agreed only because the agent assured them that 'the owners were very open to leasing'.

When Callie saw the house, she fell for it, and fell hard. From its Victorian facade with wrap around porch, to its hardwood floors, three fireplaces, and the beautiful spa-like master bathroom, everything about the house spoke to her. Throw in the fact that it had three bedrooms, 2.5 baths, a study, and a finished basement…. The rental agent had been right in her assumption that Callie was the one she had to win over; and that Mark would follow wherever Callie led. All of which explained why Mark and Callie were now the proud leasees of a 3450 sq ft home.

She blew out a puff of air and stepped away from the door. _'3450 feet Torres. It shouldn't be that difficult to avoid Mark in 3450 feet.'_

**Malliemallie**

"Yeah… no, that's fine. Just put him on Simmon's caseload for tomorrow, sometime before 10. If Simmon's thinks the skin is taking, let's move him out of Plastics and on to Med/Surg…. Yeah, Monday… bright eyed and bushy tailed. See you then. Thanks."

Mark glanced at the time on his cell phone as he flipped it shut. A few minutes after 6:00. He'd been out in the backyard taking a call from SG for the last five minutes and now as he rounded the corner out of the kitchen he listened for the sound of either of their friends, and heard only silence. And much as he liked Ted, he was more than happy to have him and Yang gone… that meant he had Callie all to himself.

Leaning against the kitchen doorjamb he studied her for a few minutes. She was standing in front of the front door, staring at the collection of boxes that filled the entryway and, she was beautiful; even with the little frown that was creasing her forehead.

"Ted and Yang are gone already?"

Callie looked up, seemingly surprised to find him standing there. "Hmm? Oh, yeah, they just left." She smirked, "Poor Ted, Yang's going to eat him alive."

"Ted's tougher than he looks."

"So is Yang." They shared a smile and then the room around them dropped into awkward silence.

Seconds passed and then both of them spoke:

"I better –"

"Callie I -"

With a short chuckle they fell into silence again; each waiting for the other to speak.

_'Well this is just silly,'_ Callie thought as she opened her mouth to speak. _'It's just Mark. I know how to speak to Mark!'_

'I have to get her to relax,' he thought as he ran his hand over the back of his neck.

"I was just –"

"Look I know –"

Mark sighed as they did it again. _'Fuck it! This is ridiculous. I can think of far better things for us to do 'simultaneously' other than 'talking'!'_ He moved toward her with slow measured steps. Three of them. Three leisurely, predatory, possessive steps.

As soon as he stood directly in front of, Callie unconsciously edged away from him, backing herself up until she was flush with the door. _'Crap. Running away is NOT a good idea Cal… you can't let him know that you're scared. Talk to him.'  "_ Wh-what are you doing, Sloan?" _Yeah, right… talk to him… the tremble in your voice is totally unnoticeable. NOT!_

He trailed after her and placed one hand on either side of her, his palms flat against the door. "Something that I've wanted to do for the last four weeks."

"Oh." Her big chocolate eyes were lost – floating in the sea of his blue-grey orbs.

And he watched as unreadable emotions flitted through the depths of her dark eyes; they darted one after the other across her face until finally they settled on desire.

"Four long, long, long weeks." His breath brushed against her cheek, then along her earlobe, causing a shiver to run uncontrollably through her body.

She repeated herself, her mind lost in the moment, "Oh."

"Oh...." He copied her soft exclamation and grinned against her neck, his lips ever so lightly touching the soft skin there – she was still almond, and cinnamon, and so very sweet. "I've been a good boy haven't I Callie?" He nuzzled against her jaw line.

"Hmm? Oh, mmm hmmm."

"And good boys, they deserve rewards don't they?" His lips hovered just over hers, "Especially when they've been around such constant, constant," He curled a strand of her hair around his finger, "temptation."

She tilted her head back, bringing her lips within a breaths distance from his.

"Can I have my reward, Callie?" He felt her hands creep from his waist to his shoulders, and then, timidly, up to his neck. When her arms tightened, almost imperceptibly, he lowered his head the small distance that separated them and touched his lips to hers.


	8. Buttercup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's get it on…. Let's get it on…! 
> 
> If you are not legal to read about sexual stuff, or you're easily offended by sexual stuff… please skip this chapter… not much happens… hah!

 

**MalliemallieMalliemallieMall iemallie**

" _And good boys, they deserve rewards don't they?" His lips hovered just over hers, "Especially when they've been around such constant, constant," He curled a strand of her hair around his finger, "temptation."_

_She tilted her head back, bringing her lips within a breaths distance from his._

" _Can I have my reward, Callie?" He felt her hands creep from his waist to his shoulders, and then, timidly, up to his neck. When her arms tightened, almost imperceptibly, he lowered his head the small distance that separated them and touched his lips to hers._

* * *

Callie feigned sleep as she felt the bed shift. She concentrated on keeping her breathing even and smooth as she listened to Mark move around the room, dressing. She reminded herself to stay still, and to breathe in and out and after a few seconds she heard Mark move to the head of the bed. The warmth of his body as he reached over her was tangible. She felt his hand brush a lock of hair away from her cheek and then he was gone – out of the room, and seconds later, out of the house.

"Shit," Callie whispered softly. "I am in so much trouble." With a groan she rolled onto her back, stopping when she heard crinkling.  Turning her head to the left she saw, there on the pillow next to her, a piece of paper. She picked it up and immediately recognized Sloan's careless scrawl.

_Morning Gorgeous. Gone to get coffee and bagels. Back soon, Mark_

She groaned. Coffee, bagels, and a man who could curl her toes with a look… she was totally screwed.

_Screwed_. An overpowering smile curved along her face. Last night… last night had been amazing. Dirty, sexy, hot 'amazing'…. As soon as his lips had touched hers she'd known she was in trouble. But then again, she ALWAYS felt that way when Mark kissed her… when he touched her. In trouble and lost; lost in a haze of… well, she refused to call them emotions…. Lost in a haze of pheromones, and heat, and, okay, definitely lost in lust.

She lifted her hand to her faintly bruised lips. _'Dios mio but that man knows how to kiss. And touch. And…_ ' Callie closed her eyes and squeezed her legs together as she shimmied lower in the bed.

_His lips graced hers in a soft teasing kiss. A barely there, completely circuit overloading kiss._

" _Callie, Callie, Callie." He whispered against the soft pliancy of her lips. "You taste so sweet. Will you always taste this way?"_

_And she felt herself melting just a little more. "Mmm, I'll… I'll do my best."_

_He groaned and lowered his head to her neck, stretching his tongue out and gently lapping a line of skin there. "Just to keep you honest, I think I'm going to need to continue to do some taste testing."_

_It was her turn to groan. The promise of his mouth against her skin – all of her skin – made her insides thrum. She curved her hand up along his neck, sliding her fingers through the curls at the back of his head._

_Mark shifted his stance, removing his hands from the door and placing them on Callie's body; a much, much better location for them. One hand settled at her back and the other went to her thigh. Using his new position, he lifted her up and pressed her torso against the door. Without prompting she wrapped her beautiful legs around his hips, perfectly aligning her body with his._

_Mark was in trouble. His senses were spinning and churning and he could feel himself getting lost in her. Lost in her scent, in the feeling of her supple, lush body; lost in the silky smooth feel of her café au lait skin. But if he was going to be lost, he wanted her to get lost with him._

_Pressing his body against hers, pinning her to the door with his weight, he freed his hands and let them roam over her curves. He placed a hand under the bottom hem of her top, edging his fingers along her side, his thumb teasing along her ribs before moving further up her body until he hit the underside of her breast._

" _Have I told you what a fan I am of your breasts?"_

_She laughed and lifted one hand from his head. Dropping her hand between their bodies, she lowered her fingers to his belt. "Have I told you what a fan I am of your cock?"_

" _Mmmmm," he bit back a curse, "Apparently, we have a mutual admiration society going on here."_

" _Apparently." She successfully unhooked his belt with one hand and then dropped that hand to his denim clad cock. "Oh, yeah. I'm really, really appreciating this."_

_He chuckled in her ear before nibbling at the sensitive skin just below. Planting his legs, he pulled back so that he was bearing her weight; one hand under her ass the other still at her breast. Turning them around he started to make his way to the bedroom… their bedroom._

" _Shit!" He mumbled as he stubbed his foot against one of the many boxes sitting in the hall._

_Callie giggled and decided to distract him just a little more. Using her tongue she curved her head to the side and licked a trail along his jugular._

" _Shit!" He cursed again as he felt his cock jump in response to her lick. She laughed again._

" _Keep laughing, Buttercup. It'll be hilarious when I trip over a box and drop both of our asses on the floor."_

" _Hilarious? Maybe not, but if I land on top, I've got some moves I'd like to try out."_

" _Ah, ah, ahh. I'm on top tonight." He growled as he kicked his way into the bedroom. "At least for round one" he added with a seductive whisper._

_Callie felt the flutter in her belly that she was_ _**so** _ _starting to associate with Mark. She forced herself to ignore the wave of excitement and instead, teased Mark, "Round one? Think you can get it up more than once 'old man'?"_

" _Do you really want to challenge me, Cal?" He'd reached the bed and without ceremony, he dropped her onto the mattress._

" _Ummm," she stared at him as he lifted his t-shirt up over his head. Her breath caught in her throat; like she'd said: caliente. The man was fucking hot. She watched his hands smooth along his stomach and head down toward his unbuckled jeans._

_His chuckle and the calling of her name drew her out of her trance._

' _Cal?'_

" _Hmmm?" She blinked and looked up at his face. The mischievous, 'I-know-you-think-I'm-hot' grin on his face sent blood rushing through her body… tinting her skin pink, and making her insides melt. 'Busted.'_

_He repeated his question, "Was that a challenge, Callie?" He flipped open the button on his jeans and then tugged at the zipper._

_She once again didn't answer him; her eyes were following his hands again, watching as they simultaneously pulled underwear and denim off of his hips and down his firm thighs._

" _Are you drooling, Torres?" Mark teased._

" _What? Huh? No!" Callie self-consciously brought her hand up to her mouth – just to double check._

_He stood at her feet, laughing at her actions. When she raised a brow and tilted her head to the side – questioning his 'daring' to laugh at her, he moved back into seduction mode. "One of us is seriously overdressed."_

_She lowered her eyes to his proud cock. "I'm going to say that it's me." She bent a leg up onto the mattress, "can you help me out with that problem?"_

_Reaching for her hand, he pulled her into a sitting position and reached for the bottom of her t-shirt. Pulling upwards, he lifted the top off of her frame. Black bra, satin cups, and lace edging greeted him. Dropping to his knees in front of Callie, he reached for the drawstring tie on her capri's and undid the bow. Sliding his hands in the waistband, he silently urged her to lift her hips as he pulled her pants and underwear off._

_Mark did his best not to stare; to keep his eyes on his task… the task of stripping Callie. But he failed miserably. As he lifted one of her legs, and then the other, to pull her pants off, he couldn't help looking at her – now – bare center. Bare except for a trim, dark, 'landing strip' of black curls set against nutmeg tanned skin._

" _Well, hello kitty." Mark's grin was wicked._

_Callie put her hand on Mark's head, half pulling him closer, half pushing him away. "Mark!" She squealed as he parted her legs – raising her right thigh over his shoulder – and without ceremony, buried his head between them. He tugged her hips closer, and breathed her scent in before letting his tongue dart out to taste her._

" _Marrrrrkk!" This wasn't a complaint, or a plea to stop. It was a cry of pure pleasure. His tongue, like his smile, was wicked. Darting and teasing and delving into her sex. Within seconds, he had set a maddening rhythm with his tongue and his thumb. His thumb was on her clit and every time his tongue skated the length of her sex, he would lift his thumb and suckle at her clit; the abrasive flat of his tongue curving around the little nerve sac as he tenderly drew it into his mouth. Callie let him know he was 'doing a good job' through her possessive grasp of his head, the sexy little moans that kept emanating from her throat, and the steady rocking of her hips – which lifted to meet his attacking tongue._

_When he felt Callie's legs tightening around his head, Mark switched his strokes; letting his tongue curl upwards inside of her warmth and at the same time, he continued to use his thumb to tease the little sensitive nubbin between her legs. Mark kept his eyes on Callie's face as his tongue spoke to her; and he was rewarded by the sight of her biting her lower lip as she came for him._

_Mark slowed the pace of his licks as the sweet juices that poured out of Callie coated his lips and chin. He lowered her leg from his shoulder and crawled his way up her body. Leaning over her body, he licked his lips and stared at Callie's 'blissed out' face. When she finally opened her eyes, her long black lashes fluttering against her cheeks, he smiled and ran his fingers through her hair. "That's 'one' for you Gorgeous…, let's see if we can get you to two."_

_He lowered his head and she lifted her own to meet him halfway. As they kissed, he changed his position slightly, letting a hand drift down Callie's bra clad breasts, over the soft swell of her belly, and down to the moist folds of her sex. Tracing his fingers along her slit, he slipped his middle finger inside of her burying it to the hilt._

_Callie could taste herself on Mark's lips… her sweetness, her musky release. Her essence on his mouth was like an aphrodisiac and she found herself searching his mouth; searching for more evidence of his appreciation of her flavor. As they kissed she felt his hand trailing down her body and her breath caught as his finger slid into her and he leisurely began to finger her._

_Not one to make a man do all the work, Callie did her own exploration of Mark's body:_

_Pecs – firm and hard._ _Nipples – taut and sensitive._ _Abs – oh shit, he had great abs._ _Treasure trail – leading to a pulsating, bobbing, silken piece of manhood._

_Callie had: 'been there, done that', and she'd 'been there, done that' WITH Sloan before, but…, for once in her life, memory hadn't overdone it. As a matter of fact, if anything, her memory had downplayed the 'magnificence' that was 'Sloan'. She made a mental note to herself to pay closer attention to everything she 'touched' and 'saw' tonight._

" _Fuck, Callie." His voice was ragged, breathless in response to her fingers as they wound round his shaft, lightly stroking his warm skin._

_Adding a second finger to his first, Mark kept up a steady pace as he finger fucked her. A pace that Callie kept time with through her firm caresses of his cock._

_It had been four weeks since he'd kissed her. And it had been, unknown to her, four months since he'd been with another woman; so, despite his bragging, Mark wasn't going to last long, and he knew it. With that knowledge somewhere in the back of his barely functioning brain, Mark let his fingers curve, hitting Callie's g-spot again and at the same time, he applied pressure to her clit; steady pressure for just a second before he rubbed the exposed tip with the pad of his thumb._

_Callie arched her back as Mark sent her over the edge once more; this time, she wasn't able to stop herself from calling out his name._

_Mark was aware that to most people who knew him, he came across as self-indulgent – all about Mark. And it was true… he was a big fan of his own pleasure. Pleasure good. But Mark also knew that one way receipt of pleasure, while good, was a pale comparison to giving pleasure. He watched Callie as she came for the second time, and realized that 'that' look, and the sound she made as she burst into a million little pieces, was better than any single physical feeling he'd ever experienced._

_Callie's hand was still lazing against Mark's length, but she'd temporarily stilled her stroking of him when she lost control of her senses. He could tell she was swinging back around to reality when her hand began to move again._

_Lifting his fingers to his mouth Mark licked them clean, laughing when Callie mewled: "You are a dirty, dirty man."_

" _Baby, you haven't seen anything yet." He rose up so that he was hovering above the striking Callie Torres. "Ready for number three?"_

_Callie stared at him for a few seconds, her brown eyes searching for something. He wasn't certain what it was, or if she eventually found it in him, but she skimmed her hand between them and centered him at her entrance. "I think I need a Sloan injection."_

_Callie wasn't positive, but she thought that the smile that broke across Mark's face at that moment might have been the biggest smile she'd ever seen on him._

" _Your wish is my command, Beautiful."_

_As they moved together, quiet except for the sound of their bodies touching, they gazed into each others eyes._

_As Callie's body tensed around Mark's rigid cock, he could feel his balls tightening, warning him of an impending climax, and he increased the speed of his thrusts. She must have sensed something 'impending' too, because she ran her fingers up his back, digging her nails into his shoulder blades._

_A little pain with their pleasure._

" _You're so beautiful," he murmured and then he came._

_As he climaxed, Mark was so deafened by the sound of the world rushing past him – roaring and whispering at the same time – that he missed Callie's soft_ _exclamation._

_Podrías romper mi corazón!_

* * *

Hearing the sound of Mark coming in the front door of the house, Callie propped herself up against the pillows. _'Um, seductive pose? No…! I don't want to look seductive'_ she shifted slightly, _'umm, nonchalant. I want to look nonchalant. Or, maybe, shit! He's coming.'_

Mark poked his head around the corner of the bedroom doorway and he grinned at the sight of a wide eyed, tousle headed Callie. "Good you're up! I come bearing gifts." He rounded the corner and entered the room, lightly kicking the door shut behind him.

_'Does he have to look that good in sweatpants and a t-shirt too? And who even knew he owned sweatpants?!'_ Callie rallied her spinning senses. "Oh God! Coffee… gimmee gimmee gimmee!"

She ignored his laugh and took the cup that he held out to her. "Mmmmmmmm," she snuggled lower in the bed – content. "I so needed that," looking up at his wide awake visage, Callie grimaced slightly, "I'll be as wide awake as you in a second."

"Erh. Or not." He sat down next to her on the bed.

"'Or not'?"

"The coffee's decaffeinated. Well, yours is."

"What?!" She nearly spit out the sip she'd just taken.

"The coffee's –"

"I heard what you said… WHY is the hell am I drinking decaffeinated coffee?"

"Caffeine should be taken in moderation by pregnant women."

"I – I'm not… you've got to be kidding me!"

"Well, I thought we'd start weaning you off of the 'juice' early. And who knows, you **could** be pregnant now."

"NUH UH!" She whacked him on the chest with her hand. "Sloan, take that back this instant! How can you even think that?! I'm not ready to be pregnant yet."

He rubbed the spot on his chest that she'd just bruised. "No protection Cal. We didn't use a condom and you told me you haven't been on the pill for… well, since before George." He grinned like an idiot _(her thoughts_ ) and added "You better get 'ready to be pregnant' pretty quick Torres, you could be carrying a baby Sloan at this very minute."


	9. Domesticity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recipe Spinach and Steak Salad at end of fic  
> Ambroggio poem Your Eyesat end of fic

**MALLIEmallieMALLIEmallieMALL IEmallie**

"So, how are things going at Chez Slorres?"

"Yang!" Torres glanced around the locker room the two of them occupied - just to be certain.

"What!? I've been very good! I've kept my mouth shut when Sloan comes up to you and says 'see you later.' I've kept my mouth shut when the nurses have commented that you and he aren't 'calling on each other' in the on-call rooms anymore. I've been good! I've been SOOOOO good about this they're thinking of nominating me for sainthood!"

Callie snorted, "Yes. And I appreciate it Yang. If they come to me for input on the nomination, I'll give them a thumbs up."

Cristina looked only slightly mollified as she undid the drawstring on her scrub pants.  She continued slightly cattily, "And, really, it's not like I need you to answer my question. I can tell things at the Slorres' home are going well. You're glowing."

Callie's eyes shot up from the boots she was pulling on. "No! No! There is no glowing here!" _People glowed when they were pregnant, and while she and Sloan had been taking full advantage of having one another around, she wasn't pregnant. She refused to be._ She took a deep breath, realizing she was overreacting a bit, Yang knew she and Sloan were living together, but she didn't know the real reason why.

"Dude, there is total glowage. Like lighting up a room glowage. From both of you. The two of you could be an ad for the benefits of regular mind-blowing sex." She pulled out her jeans and sat down on the bench. "And," she grinned inquisitively, "It _is_ mind-blowing isn't it? Feel free to share details… as a reward… for my being good."

"Bitch."

"Sloan-slut. And with that one word, I automatically win! Spill!"

"Things are going – well."

Yang waited a beat. "That's spilling? That's what you call spilling?! That's not even trickling. That's a droplet. Starving woman over here! Not getting any on my own! Help a girl out! Let me live vicariously through you! Now realllllly, spill. I want a waterfall of information."

"'Not getting any on your own?' What about Ted? I thought I was sensing chemistry there."

"He's hot. Undeniably hot. Sloan and him in college together? On the same campus? Panties must have been flying off of girls as they walked past them on the quad. But I'm not – I haven't, um, dropped mine for him… yet." She put on her shoes. "We've only been out a couple of times; hard to match a doctor and a lawyer's schedules. And anyway, I'm not really certain that he's in to me. I mean, he flirts; he flirts well. But he's been a total gentleman. Who knew that that thing about southern gentility was real? But anyway, he hasn't made a move on me. And…," she paused, "Hey! Nice try! We're not talking about my dismal sex life, we're talking about your headboard banging, clothes ripped, body-bruised lovin'. Spill!"

Callie focused on the grey locker in front of her, but she couldn't stop the smile that flirted across her lips. "I see you've been in our bedroom."

"Ohhhh. Ohhhh. Damn! It's that good? Fuck! I knew he'd be good. Shit. Callie, you've got to let me share this with someone. Anyone. Oooh! I know. Meredith. I can share it with Meredith."

"Grey?! Why would I want Grey to know anything about me and my… me and Sloan?"

"She's with Derek. Most of the time."

Callie eyed her.

"Some of the time.... They have a complicated relationship, but anyway Derek is Sloan's Bro-ho. They're almost as inseparable as you and Sloan are. Sloan probably wants to tell Derek his shit. And if he does, then Derek will want to tell Meredith. And if Sloan has to swear him to secrecy, that will be bad for the Bro-ho-dom. And bad for Mer and Derek. Let me be a sharer, pleeeeaase. You know I don't beg often. I wheedle, I manipulate, but begging… no. I am officially begging."

Callie studied Yang's animated face. She was right. Sloan did want to share his new home and home situation with Derek. As a matter of fact, Sloan wanted to share the information with everyone. She was the only one who was advocating baby steps.

_Shit._ Baby steps. Poor, fucking choice of words.

"Fine. You can tell Meredith. But you have to swear her to secrecy. Like death at the hands of an angry bone-breaker secrecy. She can't tell Lil' Miss Izzy, or George. No one."

Yang had stopped listening almost before the word 'fine' was out of Callie's mouth. She had whipped out her blackberry and was scrolling through the calendar to find out where Meredith was. She had news to spread. Gossip. Of the sexual juicy sort. It was almost as good as having real sex. Almost.

"Yeah, yeah. Okay, gotta go!" She stood up and headed to the door at a sprint.

"Yang!"

"What?!" Cristina wheeled around, blackberry to her ear, door half open.

"You may want to cover up the girls."

Cristina looked down and saw shoes, jeans, and bra… but no top on her body. "Shit!" She let the door close. "I told you it was killing me keeping this secret."

Callie chuckled and grabbed her bag out of her locker. "Later, Cristina. And remember, Meredith and Derek, that's it."

* * *

Her nerves were tingling from the mere thought that her secret, at least part of it, would soon be out. The last eight days – playing house and home with Mark – had been amazing. Everything from the sex, to the conversation, to unpacking boxes had been, yeah, well, 'amazing' was the word that consistently came to mind.

She'd known that Sloan was talented between the sheets, although, previously, she'd definitely blocked just _how_ good from her mind. Now that she was faced with the facts on a nightly (and morningly) basis, she wasn't able to hide from the truth. Mark Sloan had skills. Mad skills.

Callie sighed as she opened the car door and lightly threw the two bags of groceries onto the passenger seat. She'd get home in 10-15 minutes, put dinner on for them, jump in the shower, and be pouring the wine by the time Mark finished work and pulled into the drive.

They'd agreed to take turns making meals, or taking one another out, based upon schedule and inclination. And to her surprise, Mark turned out to have a few tricks up his sleeve when it came to the kitchen. She fought back the blush that crept up her cheeks as she thought about one or two of the non-food related tricks he'd shown her in the kitchen a couple of nights ago. Besides THOSE skills, Mark apparently also had a few meals that he made really well. He'd prepared this amazing sausagey, tomatoey noodley thing the other night; and then he'd washed the dishes, and 'allowed' her to have one glass of wine before he seduced her into their bed (an activity that was really, really becoming a lot easier for him to do with every passing day).

Anyway, tonight Callie was going to return the favour and make Mark dinner. And then they'd do that other thing that she'd found she enjoyed doing with him; they'd talk. It surprised her to no end to find out how intelligent he was. It appears that, his wicked smile and mischievous eyes had, in the past, distracted her from his wit. Well, she wasn't distracted anymore. She was seeing the whole package these days.

It wasn't fair that he had a beautiful mind to go with his beautiful eyes.

It wasn't fair at all.

After putting the steak on, Callie stripped out of her jeans and t-shirt and kicked off her boots, leaving a trail of clothing on the floor that led from the bedroom to the bathroom.  The warm water pebbled against her skin and along the ceramic tiles of the shower. It made a kind of muted music; massaging and lulling her senses into relaxation. God it was good to be off of work and back at home.

Callie paused as she lathered her legs to shave them. 'Home'. It was unbelievable how quickly she had managed to start thinking of this beautiful house as a home. Even with boxes still tucked away in a few corners, coming back here at night, _sleeping_ in the giant king sized bed, making dinner in the modern warm kitchen – yeah, they all felt like 'home'.

And then there was Mark.

So far, he felt oh-so-right too.

'Fuck!'

If a week had her feeling this way, what would a year or a year and a half make her feel?

The razor slid smoothly over her skin as she sadly contemplated her predicament. 'I either have to get this over with as quickly as possible, or get out.' Getting out would be the more intelligent move. Just removing herself from the danger that the nearness of Mark represented; removing herself from Mark's actions and behavior and the suggestions of 'happily ever after' that they seemed to promise – that would be wise.

She turned off the water and pushed open shower doors. Stepping out she sighed, 'Color me foolish.'

* * *

Mark slammed the file shut, and pushed back from the table, a grin on his lips. He and Callie were both off early enough this evening that they'd be able to spend some time together. _And_ they were both off tomorrow, which meant he could ravish her tonight AND tomorrow.

Nodding at a few people as he dropped off his patient's paperwork, Mark chuckled quietly. Callie was meant for ravishment. Her luscious curves, her _I'm sexy but I don't know it_ behaviour, her surprised pink flush every time he touched her; how the hell he had managed to keep his hands off of her after the first time he touched her, he still didn't know.

Well he sort of knew. It was cowardice. Fear of expressing emotion, real emotion – and of being rejected. So, he'd played the field some more. Looking at what Seattle had to offer by way of women. Golden hair. Coffee coloured tresses. Fiery red heads. All of it was good. But none of it was as good as Callie. None of them were as real. As edgy. As beautiful.

Mark gunned his car and peeled out of Seattle Grace's physician parking lot. He would be home in 15 minutes.

20 if he stopped off for flowers.

Callie was worth flowers – and five extra minutes.

()

Spinach leaves cut and in bowls – check. Red onions sliced and in bowls – check.

Walnuts sprinkled in bowls – check. Blue cheese in bowls – check.

Now all she needed to do was finish slicing the steak into strips, and dinner would be ready for - Callie heard the garage door opening and her stomach did that weird flippy thing that it did when Mark was close - ready for Mark.

She sliced the few remaining strips of meat before putting down her knife and cleaning her hands on a dish towel.

Reaching for the open bottle of wine, she poured two glasses; she was lifting hers to her lips when she finally heard his key at the door.

"Your one allowed glass of wine, I hope?" Mark asked as he walked through the door. Those were the first words that came to his lips, although, the first words that came to his mind were: 'I wish I was that glass at her lips'.

Callie growled, evoking little more than a smarmy grin from Mark. "You, Sloan, are not my keeper." He stepped further into the kitchen and she saw a bouquet in his hands. _'Damn him_.' She valiantly fought the urge to grin stupidly at the knowledge that he'd taken the time to bring her flowers.

"I'd be happy to be your keeper," he raised his brows suggestively. "We could use those pretty little silk scarves... I think the bedpost – with all that wrought iron and wood – would hold. I could keep you all night, and all day tomorrow." He was standing right in front of her as he finished his lewd, lascivious, and utterly leg melting offer. He took the glass from her hand and put it on the counter behind her.

"You don't play fair," she whispered quietly as she lifted her hands to his chest.

"No I don't. I play to win." He kissed the tip of her nose then stepped back. "These are for you." He held up the bouquet.

"You do know that these flowers will not get me to do that _thing_ you want me to do." She breathed in their scent and then turned to the cabinets to find a vase.

"What _would_ get you to do that thing?"

"Nothing. Not happening. That fantasy is just that: a fantasy."

Mark reached around her as she put water in the vase, and stole a piece of steak off of one of the salads.

"Hey!"

"I'm hungry." He leaned down and kissed her neck. She smelled like lilacs.

"So then, let's eat."

"You bring the glasses, I'll get the plates." Mark picked up the dishes and headed out to the backyard patio.

Arranging the flowers a little bit before pushing them safely onto the counter, Callie noticed the small card contained in the midst of the buds.

Flicking the envelope open she read the words scribbled in Mark's scrunched handwriting:

_Your eyes smile  
_ _invite_ _say everything_  
 _yes, maybe_  
 _eyes of honey, fire..._ _  
your eyes  
_ _wound_ _  
condemn_  
 _love_ _  
contain_  
 _and my eyes_  
 _like mirrors_   
mimic them.

_-Mark-_

_'Oh he soooo doesn't play fair. Quoting Luis Ambroggio! Fuck!'_

Throwing back the rest of her glass of wine, Callie reached for the bottle and topped her glass off again. _'I'm not pregnant yet, and I definitely need courage to handle Mark. Even if it is false courage.'_

Heading out to the backyard Callie straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. She might be a condemned woman (falling for Mark was definitely not a healthy idea), but she wasn't going to go down without a fight.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steak Salad recipe
> 
> 6 cups fresh spinach  
> ½ cup walnut halves  
> 2 roma tomatoes, sliced  
> ½ of a red onion, sliced thin  
> Blue cheese or mozzarella crumbled/shredded  
> 1 steak (either new York strip, or round steak) seasoned to taste
> 
> Grill or broil steak to taste (preferably medium-well to well-done).  
> Slice steak into strips  
> Arrange spinach into bowls  
> Throw in walnuts, tomato, onion slices  
> Place strips of steak on top of the yumminess.  
> Put cheese on top  
> Use some sort of dressing… I recommend a sweeter or fruity vinaigrette (raspberry rocks!)
> 
> .
> 
> .
> 
> .
> 
> YOUR EYES poem
> 
> YOUR EYES
> 
> Your eyes smile  
> invite  
> say everything  
> yes, maybe  
> eyes of honey, fire  
> they seduce  
> desire  
> punish  
> yes green flowers  
> or white blossoms  
> they say  
> no, so-so  
> that you hurt  
> suffer  
> eyes of light, water  
> attract, defer  
> they follow  
> ignore  
> dance  
> open  
> look down  
> up  
> play with my eyes  
> with others  
> close in a cloud  
> divine eyes  
> bedeviled  
> they incite  
> betray  
> deceive  
> pardon  
> they are sins  
> fists of silver, onyx.
> 
> Your eyes wound  
> condemn  
> love  
> contain  
> and my eyes  
> like mirrors  
> mimic them.
> 
> Ocean eyes  
> black, green, red  
> imperious, timid  
> two stars  
> two howls.
> 
> -Luis Alberto Ambroggio  
> Trans. from Spanish by C.M. Carlson


	10. Big Enough

**MALLIEmallieMALLIEmallieMALL IEmallie**

Callie slipped into the kitchen with a quiet sigh.

Heading to the refrigerator, she pulled out the apple juice and topped off her wineglass. The glass was halfway to her lips when she realized that she'd just poured 'juice' of her own free will and volition. She shook her head in resignation before taking a sip. She'd had so much milk and juice and water in the past month that she'd practically forgotten what alcohol tasted like. But apparently, Mark's rules were rubbing off on her.

Much like the man himself was.

Setting her glass on the island, she reached for the knife and the saucers and began to slice and plate the dessert.

_I'm lucky Mark hasn't forbidden me to eat sweets_. She licked a dollop of chocolate frosting off of her finger. _Of course, the man wasn't dumb; he probably didn't want to lose the use of his digits by trying to separate me from chocolate_. _Yeah… he's probably afraid I'll maim him if he takes away another one of my guilty pleasures: coffee, alcohol… if he takes away my sweets I'll go crazy._ Callie smiled to herself. _And there's also the fact that Mark seems to appreciate my curves._ Which still kind of amazed her. All of the other women he'd paraded around the hospital during the past few years had been tall, slender, model thin, or short, petite, pixie-ish little things. While she was fairly tall, she definitely wasn't slender or petit _e. Still, Mark seems to appreciate every inch of me._ Callie's smile broadened as she flushed pink. _EVERY inch_.

She was still smiling as she cut the final slice of the decadent chocolate cake – her mother's recipe – and gently placed it on its' plate. As she did so, something made her look up. There, leaning against the kitchen door, watching her, was Mark.

"What?" She crossed her eyes and looked at her nose, wondering if she'd managed to get frosting on it. "Did I drop some chocolate on me?" She stepped away from the counter and glanced at her chest and top. No chocolate in sight.

"No. Why?" Mark pushed away from the door and headed to the island.

"You were looking at me. I thought I had green feathers or something growing from the top of my head."

He reached across the dark marble counter and captured her chin with his fingers; lightly pulling her closer to him, he leaned in and touched his lips to hers… softly. She tasted sweet, and buttery. IT was probably the frosting, but, in his mind, this was what Torres always tasted like; smooth, soft, sugary, with just a hint of spice. He breathed against her lips, "I'm always looking at you Cal. You should be use to it by now."

She blinked slowly, refocusing her eyes on his handsome face. _Oh God, I'm in trouble. I'm so in trouble. Why can't he be acerbic and sarcastic all of the time? THAT's what I'm use to! Crap!_

Mark could see the escape plan formulating in Callie's head as soon as he spoke; her fight or flee instinct kicking in and heading resolutely for: 'flee'. (Fighting with him hadn't been working for her too well recently.) Backing away from the counter before she could retreat from him (either physically or metaphorically) he changed the topic. "Grey and Ted want coffee, Yang and Derek are with you and me on the milk thing. I figured I'd bring out the drinks and you can bring out the dessert?"

He was efficiently moving around their kitchen, pulling the milk out of the fridge, and pouring four heaping glasses of the white liquid when he realized that she was still standing silently behind him. He turned around, "Cal?"

Callie lov- really liked Mark's hands. Especially when they were active. Like they were now. Opening and closing the milk, pulling out the coffee mugs. He had great hands. Great, amazing, fabulous hands, and – they'd stopped moving. Crap! He'd said something to her, hadn't he? "Hmm? Wha-? Oh. Yeah. Right. Me – dessert, you – beverages. On it!" She forced herself to turn back to the counter. Balancing three of the plates, she headed out of the kitchen, "See you out there."

Mark looked down at his hands questioningly before shrugging and heading to the coffee pot.

**MALLIEmallieMALLIEmallieMALL IEmallie**

Two things were freaking Callie out. Well, two things in particular… tonight. One) she liked Meredith. The woman might be too skinny, and have questionable taste in friends (as evidenced by Izzy and George) but she was fucking funny. And, yeah, alright, kind of nice. Point A in Grey's favor – even though she was friends with O'Malley, Callie couldn't really hold that against her – she herself had married the dork (I'm really, really going to work harder at thinking positive thoughts about my ex. Really), so could she blame someone else for just talking to him? No.

Point B in Grey's favor – she'd had 2 and a half pieces of the Torres Chocolate Spice cake. Maybe Callie could fatten her up.

Point C in Grey's favor – the humor and the niceness. Tonight, between Cristina's sharp wit and Meredith's dry humor, it was all Callie could do to keep herself from doubling over with laughter. As for the niceness, outside of the hospital, seated on the couch next to Derek, Meredith was at ease - relaxed. She wasn't the frantic, overwrought, twit that Callie had previously thought her to be. She was nice. Grey had even helped Callie clean up the remnants of the party at the end of the night; carrying plates and dishes and cups and glasses into the kitchen to soak in the hot sudsy water that Callie SO was not going to touch until the morning. Meredith helped Callie while the other four revelers discussed the relative merits of Eddie Izzard and Denis Leary (my vote is for Izzard).

So yeah, Meredith was freaking Callie out with her whole: being likable thing.

Freaky thing number two of the night.

Mark and her. Together. In front of other people. Being seen as a couple by people they knew. Being looked at like a couple. Dios mio, FEELING like a couple!

At least, she was feeling the coupley thing. She spent most of the night, when she wasn't being hostess extraordinaire to his host extraordinaire, curled up on a pillow on the floor, seated next to him; her shoulder pressed against his leg. Their proximity to one another creating and supporting the reality of their being 'together'. And as if _proximity_ wasn't scary, freaky, weird enough, there was the touching. When Meredith zinged Cristina with a comeback (again, WHO knew Grey had the cojones!?) Callie had laughed so hard she found herself laying her head against Mark's knee for support. Bad enough. But then Mark had casually placed his hand on the top of her head. His fingers soothingly massaging her scalp, rubbing and lulling her senses into – temporarily – not caring about the picture they were painting. A picture of togetherness.

Bad enough squared.

Wanna hear about 'Bad enough' in triplicate?

No one, except for her, seemed to think that Mark and she were an oddity. Meredith, once they got over the whole awkward 'I hate your friends and they all hate me' thing, didn't blink a questionable eye in their direction. Derek grinned at them every once and a while, but, grinning wasn't technically an offense. Ted, well, he was in on the whole dark, sordid plot, so his reaction didn't really count. Or so she told herself. Besides, strictly speaking, Ted kept his eyes focused on Yang the whole night; he probably wouldn't have noticed if she and Mark had had sex on the coffee table right in front of him. And Cristina. Yeah… well, she was with Derek with the whole grinning stupidly thing.

But grinning stupidly apparently didn't equate with condemnation. No sarcastic comments, or whispered disapprovals escaped from any of them regarding how silly it was for Callie to be with Mark. Or how imperfect the two of them looked together. Nothing.

(())

Callie sighed as she pulled her hair back into a ponytail and took another look in the full length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. Mark liked it when she wore her hair down, but she couldn't keep doing things just because she thought he might like them. Thinking about him, them, was part of her problem. She had to start focusing on herself versus on him and how… how special he made her feel. She had to start focusing on herself versus on what it could be like for them – if it was all real.

_Stupid-ass plan. Stupid-ass Mark Sloan seductive lips, seductive eyes, and fully-functioning manliness._

"Coming to bed?" Mark called out from their bedroom.

"Hold your horses horny boy. I'm brushing my teeth." Callie responded, unable to keep the smirk from touching her lips.

"The horses are lassoed and reined, but they're definitely biting at the chomps."

"Got it! I'll be right there! You'll appreciate the minty fresh breath!"

She heard him chuckle and she relaxed slightly.

Taking a deep breath Callie drifted toward the vanity counter. "Speaking of fully functioning manliness," she mumbled to herself. Callie looked down at the fancy stick that she'd peed on three minutes ago.

_Shit._

_Shit._

_Fuck._

_Crap._

Clapping her hand over her mouth Callie backed up until she hit the edge of the tub. Plopping down she shook her hands out and nervously blew out a puff of air.

_I – we're – having a baby!_


	11. Amazing

**Callie CALLIE Callie CALLIE Callie**

Telling the man who made you pregnant that you are indeed pregnant should be easy.

Especially when the two of you were actively _trying_ to get pregnant.

Doubly 'especially' when the whole _purpose and reason_ for the two of you **being** together is **because** you're trying to get pregnant.

Yeah. It should be easy. Really, really easy.

Which was why, a week after finding out that she was pregnant (funny how that word kept sticking in her throat) Callie was questioning her sanity. She was sitting in the women's locker room at SG staring into her locker and practicing how to deliver the news to Sloan.

She stared into the small magnetized mirror attached to the inside door of her locker.

"Guess what? We're pregnant!"

Too cheesy.

"So… you know that thing we've been trying to do? Well, we've done it!"

Too ambiguous

"Looks like the Sloan swimmers are gold medal winners!"

Uggggh!

Callie leaned forward and banged her head against the metal door a couple of times.

With a sigh she lifted her head and glanced at her watch; time to go home, and act like nothing was wrong. And she would be acting… cuz things definitely were wrong. It was kind of amazing to her that in the short time since she'd found out that she was pregnant she'd actually started 'feeling' pregnant. She'd been tired and cranky and bleeeechy.

The tiredness she'd been able to play off as being work related - she was a resident - sleep was a foreign concept. So yeah, tiredness was a normal thing in the Slorres home.

Not so normal, was the nausea. Almost as soon as she realized she was pregnant, Callie had started feeling the dreaded nausea associated with pregnancy. Smells triggered it. Sights triggered it. Waking up triggered it. She was starting to think that breathing triggered it. She'd been fairly lucky so far, in that she had really only suffered from 'feeling nauseous' versus actually having to run to the bathroom and throw up. _Umm, excuse me Dr. Eleth, can you finish this stitch, I have to go puke._

So yeah… lucky. Lucky, lucky, lucky.

Callie sighed, stood up and pulled on her leather jacket. Zipping it closed she thought with a smirk, _maybe I can just wait to bring up this whole pregnancy thing with Mark until I've gained thirty pounds… in my stomach._

**Mark MARK Mark MARK Mark**

Something was bothering Callie. Mark didn't know what it was, but he knew there was something. For the past week or so she'd been withdrawn. The vivacious, energized woman he thought of as his best friend had disappeared and some quiet, reserved, half-creature had taken up residence in her body.

He knew she'd had some long days at the hospital, and at first, he'd put her quietness and drawn presence down to sleep deprivation. All doctors experienced it every once and a while…. But, it had been a full week. A full week! Mark had never known Callie to be less than full-throttle for more than a couple of days.

So yeah, something was wrong with Callie. And somewhere, in the back of his mind, he was worried that it was their living situation that was making her miserable. He had thought she was settling in, that she was maybe even coming to peace with the idea of him and her and their little enterprise, but the past week….

Mark had made up his mind; he was going to get the truth out of her if it killed him.

And, apparently, it was going to kill him.

Mark looked around the mess he'd made in the kitchen. Pots, pans, utensils, you name it, he'd used it. But, the scent emanating from the oven where the baked tacos and arroz rojo were being kept warm… the scent was definitely worth the mess.

Well, he hoped it was worth the mess… that, and he was kind of hoping Callie would offer to help him out with the dishes after he'd pried her secret out of her with his food enticements.

Mark pulled the bribery and tequila filled margarita pitcher out of the refrigerator as he heard Callie pull up to the house. Pouring each of them a glassful of the frothy goodness, he carried the glasses out to the front hall so that he could begin stage one of his attack.

**Callie CALLIE Callie CALLIE Callie**

Callie sighed as she fumbled with the lock. She was so happy to be home she was trembling; that, and she was still clueless as to how she was going to break the news to Sloan.

But, first things first, she was going to go inside – if her key ever fit the fricking lock (she growled in frustration) – and then she was going to run a long hot bath and… she grinned as the lock finally gave. Pushing the door open, she let her purse, her laptop, and her bag of workout clothes slide off her shoulders and fall onto the floor with a resolute thump.

Taking a deep breath Callie's senses were assaulted by odor. Familiar, but utterly unexpected scents; cheese, tomatoes, spices, and pork….

Looking up from the belongings she'd just dropped on the floor, Callie had just enough time to register the presence of Mark, with drinks in his hand, and a grin on his face, before she found herself tripping over her bags in a rush to get to the bathroom.

**Mallie MALLIE Mallie MALLIE Mallie**

Mark took two seconds to deposit the icy glasses he was holding onto the hall table, before he chased after Callie. He entered the tiny half bathroom to see Callie bent over the throne, her face pale, and her insides… coming out.

Stepping into the small room beside her, he reached for her hair, pulling the long, thick, weight away from her face and neck.

He'd never been a fan of vomiting. The sight, the sound, the smell, none of it was good. But he was finding it particularly upsetting now that he was seeing Callie doing it. The sight, the sound, and the scent were still bad, but what was really getting to him, was the fact that it was **Callie** who was sick.

With his free hand, Mark reached back and pulled a hand towel off of a bar. Pivoting a bit, but still maintaining a grip on Callie's hair, he turned on the water and dropped the towel into the sink to soak. Turning back to Callie who now seemed to be dry heaving, he ran his hand soothingly over her back, quietly rubbing her as her body began to slow down its revolt. After a few seconds, he opened his mouth to ask _how she was feeling/what was wrong_ , but she beat him to the punch.

With a sniff, Callie lifted her head and sheepishly glanced back at Mark. "I'm sorry, I… it's just that the smells. One minute I was breathing them in, and the next…."

The smells? Mark was confused for a second before he realized she was referring to their dinner. He frowned, he knew he wasn't the best cook in the world, but he'd followed the directions for their meal to the t. And it had smelled pretty damn wonderful to him. He wracked his memory to see what he might have messed up. Then suddenly, it clicked.

The sluggishness.

The moody quietness.

And finally, the vomiting.

Callie watched Mark's face as pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

"Are you…? Are we…?" Mark's eyes were laser points, his jaw tight.

"Surprise!" Callie whispered weakly.

Hauling her up so that she was flush to him, Mark wrapped his arms around Callie and hugged her close. And she could feel herself melting; melting with relief, melting with tiredness, melting with joy. And, damnit all, she could also feel herself welling up.

Mark pulled back as he felt Callie's warm, pliant form begin to vibrate. Still holding her close he looked down at her face. She was crying! Lifting his hand to the side of her face he ran his thumb over the tears that were trailing down her cheek. "Tears of joy? Tears of sadness?"

She sniffled and tried to gather her tough shell back around her. "Tears of scared-shitlessness," she said with a dark smile.

Mark lowered his thumb to Callie's lips, tracing their fullness. Then, leaning forward he kissed her eyes, first one, then the other. "You, have nothing to be scared about. You're going to be an amazing pregnant woman. And you're going to be an even more amazing mom."

"How do you know!?" Callie whacked him lightly on the chest with her hand before burrowing her head against his shoulder.

""You're already an amazing doctor, and an amazing woman… you couldn't possibly be anything less than an amazing mom."

From the hot brush of his lips against her temple, to the deliciously sweet compliments that wrapped around something in the middle of her chest, to the butterfly-wing heat that settled in her core – simply because she was close to him – Callie found herself lost in a cocoon-like haze of warm fuzzies. And she wasn't the warm fuzzy kind of gal.

Sliding her arms around his neck, Callie decided that she'd unfuzzy herself, and pull away from Mark in a second…. Or two.

She was thwarted in her detailed 'escape plan' when Mark wrapped one arm under her shoulder and another under her knees and picked her up.

"MARK! She squealed. "What are you doing!?"

"I'm putting you to bed, so that you can rest. Then, I'm going to toss dinner, air out the house, and come back and give you a foot massage."

With a sigh, Callie relaxed against Mark's frame and muttered, "I'm only letting you carry me because you'll only be ABLE to heft me around for another month or two… so I'm taking advantage of it. That, and the fact that you do give kick-butt foot massages."

Mark laughed as he walked into their bedroom. THAT was more like the Callie he knew… and loved.


	12. Hint Schmint

**Mallie MALLIE Mallie MALLIE Mallie**

_Shit!_

_Shit shit shit shit!_

Callie pressed '1' then '7' on her phone and listened to the message again.

_Hola bebé, es tu madre_ Then a faint male voice added in the background _Y tu padre._ Her mother continued _…Y tu padre. Espero que todo se encuentre bien contigo. Tengo solamente un minuto, recuerdes que la próxima semana estaremos en la ciudad para el congreso anual de tu padre.¡Queremos ver tu nuevo apartamento...el apartamento que Cristina me mencionó!, ¡Ah, estamos saliendo...te amamos!. ¡Nos vemos la próxima semana!._

Nope the message didn't change upon listening to it a second or a third time. Her parents … in Seattle… in less than a week. _Shit_!

Callie was normally quite proud of her brains. She had book learning and she had common sense. But apparently, pregnancy and Mark, especially in combination, made the whole 'functioning brain' thing of hers fly out the window. That was the only explanation she could come up with to explain having forgotten about her parents for the past four months.

Oh, it's not that she actually 'forgot' about them. She called them once a week… and she spoke to her brothers whenever she could pin one of them down. But she had studiously avoided sharing information with them about her new living situation. An omission that had been surprisingly easy for her. Her parents had learned long ago that reaching their busy daughter was THE reason that cell phones had been created. And since their mode for contacting her never changed… it had had been easy to NOT mention that she'd moved. And even easier to NOT mention that she'd moved in with a guy. And she was NEVER going to mention to them that the guy she'd moved in with was sex-on-two-legs. And if she didn't ever tell them that she was living with sex-on-two-legs, she never ever had to tell them that the aforementioned sex-on-two-legs had impregnated her.

Yeah, it was surprisingly easy to not mention any of those things to her parents.

And now, now it was all going to come back and bite her on her curvy ass.

_Shit_!

Callie flipped open her cell again and hit speed dial 2. As it rang she lifted her thumb to her mouth and worried at the fingernail. She stopped and looked at the now jagged nail, _Great another reason my mom will kill me when she sees me!_

"Dr. Montgomery…"

"Ad?"

"Callie?!"

"The one and only."

"What's up Sloan-spawn-carrier?"

"Not funny."

"Well I'm laughing…, hang on for a second."

Callie could hear the sound of a car horn blowing then the sound of Addison yelling: 'Get off of my road!'. "Sorry about that, traffic sucks."

"So does my life… or what remains of it."

"A bit melodramatic?"

"My parents are coming to town."

"So?"

"They still don't know I've moved in with Sloan or that I'm carrying their grandchild… well, they know I've moved, but not because of me."

Addison gave a low soft whistle. "Yeah, you're right, your life is over."

"Seriously, I need to call a new friend, cuz you… not helping."

Addison gave a hearty laugh. "Just messing with you doll. But wait a minute, you said didn't tell your parents you moved but they know? How'd they find out?"

"Yang."

"Bitch."

"She's not; she just has a hard time keeping secrets. Other than that, she's great. As a matter of fact, you two are actually a lot alike."

"Oh now you're just being mean."

Callie snorted then sighed. "Ad? What the hell am I going to do? Really! I mean, my mom, she's going to shit bricks over my 'living in sin'. In her book of no-no's this is probably worse than running off and eloping with George; I can feel the guilt drowning me already. And when they find out I'm pregnant? Forget about it! My dad is going to castrate Mark!"

"Is that last part really such a bad thing?"

"You DO remember what sex with Mark was like, don't you?"

Addison gave a little sigh… "Oh yeah!" Silence reigned over the lines then Addison cleared her throat, "Umm, okay, yeah… castration would be bad."

"Very, very bad. Although, right now MY memory of sex with Sloan is a little fuzzy."

"Working opposite schedules?"

"No. Well, yes, but that never stopped us before. He," Callie plopped down on the chair-and-a-half that they'd bought last weekend and tucked in the corner of the bedroom. Lowering her voice to a whisper she continued, "He won't touch me!"

"What?"

" ' .me."

"As in…?"

"Sex. Did your move out of state make you dense?"

"I see the sexual frustration has gone to your attitude. Cool your jets Torres."

"Sorry." Callie blew a puff of air and snuggled lower in the chair. "He's a doctor… for God's sake! You'd think he'd be able to get past the whole 'she's pregnant' thing. But other than a couple of foot massages and holding my hand, he hasn't touched me since he found out we're pregnant."

"Whoa whoa whoa…. Sloan gives you foot massages?"

"Apparently his hands are magical in many ways."

"Sloan never gave me foot rubs!"

"I'd trade a foot massage for a throbbing penis in a minute. And I can't believe I just said that."

"You ARE desperate."

Callie groaned.

"So _why_ aren't you and Sloan doing the horizontal mambo?"

"Because he's a huge idiot."

"Who you find immensely attractive, and amazingly delicious."

"How can I find him attractive and delicious when he's so dumb he actually thinks having sex with me will hurt the baby."

"He what!?"

"He thinks that having –"

"No, I heard what you said. I'm just not fucking believing it… Mark's a fucking doctor! I've seen him do surgeries so I _know_ he's a real doctor. He doesn't really think he'll hurt the baby, does he?"

"Well, technically I guess he KNOWS he won't hurt the baby, but… it's, it's stupid. He's kind of just, superstitious about - 'baby in woman so just to be safe, dick can't go in woman'. It's like when you see a ladder in your path and you walk around it instead of under it because of the superstition."

"So basically Mark thinks your vagina is a ladder?"

Callie burst out laughing. "Thanks for reminding me of why you're still in my speed dial; I needed that laugh."

"Always here for you babe.

Pulling a blanket around her, Callie leaned into the pillow and asked woefully, "Can you come get Mark to give me some hot-monkey lovin', and then can you stand in front of me like a giant Addison shaped shield when my parents try and drag me to a convent?"

"Okay, first things first, your mom and your dad love you. They want you to be happy. Your new home makes you happy, and oddly enough Mark-Mark seems to make you happy too – I'll let you ponder that statement on your own – but as I was saying, your parents want you happy, and they may shit bricks for a second or two, but they will come around when they see just how happy you are! And Hon, I've met Mr. and Mrs. Torres, they will melt from happiness once they find out that they are going to be grandparents."

"Is that before or after they send me to a convent and cut off Mark's balls?"

"They wouldn't send you to a convent; maybe they'd bring you back to Florida, but they wouldn't put you in a convent." Addison offered drily. "And the ball cutting? That's really more a Mark problem then a Callie problem."

"I'd agree with you if I wasn't horny and frustrated"

"And if Mark wasn't so hot. "

"Mmmmmh, don't remind me."

"Callie, I can't believe you're letting him do this to you!"

"Do what to me?"

"Tell you 'no'!"

"Huh?"

"Callie Torres, you are woman… make Mark hear you roar."

"Make him hear me roar?" Callie's tone was cynical.

"Okay, not my best catch phrase, but the thought behind it was brilliant. You need to make Mark – Mr. sex-is-how-I-breathe – get over his little 'pregnant woman/sex phobia'. He got you into this predicament; he needs to help take care of you."

"I've hinted to him about the stupidity of his pregnant sex phobia…"

"Hint Schmint. How the hell do you 'hint' about needing a fuck. You either tell him point blank to drop to his knees and dine at the Y or… better yet, cuz Mark never liked being told what to do, remind him of how beautiful your ass is… and I basically mean that literally."

"Remind him of how beautiful my ass is?"

"Mark is visual. Remind him of how beautiful you are."

"I'm four months pregnant."

"And?"

"I'm not Mark's type to begin with; add a slowly rounding belly to the mix…"

"Mark thinks you're gorgeous. You ARE gorgeous.

"Mark's getting older, he needs glasses or something."

"Calliope Iphigenia Torres, you will repeat after me: I am beautiful. I am gorgeous. And I can rock Mark Sloan's world."

"Yeah, yeah…"

"No. Repeat it!"

"Ad –"

"Do you want me to fly to Seattle to make you repeat it?"

"Fine, I'm pretty… I get it."

"I am beautiful. I am gorgeous and I can rock Mark Sloan's world."

"Fine! I'm Beautiful, and gorgeous! And I can rock Mark Sloan's world!"

"You didn't have to yell it."

"Bitch."

"Love you too…. Now all you have to do is keep repeating that little mantra and slip into some slinky negligee. Wear his favorite perfume… give him a little wine… and baby, you will be in like Flynn."

"So your basic advice to me is to seduce Mark, and pray that my parents love me enough to forgive me?"

"Basically."

Callie sighed quietly. "Are you sure you don't want to be my human shield blocking me from the wrath and disappointment of my parents?"

"There's no way I'm going to stand in the line of **that** fire."

"Love you Ad."

"Love you too Cal. Call me when you get laid."

**Mallie MALLIE Mallie MALLIE Mallie**

"Woman I'm home! Where's my hot meal!?" Mark called out teasingly as he entered the house. It had been a long day, and he was looking forward to stripping out of his clothes, taking a hot shower, and curling up around the warmth that was Callie Torres.

He groaned quietly at the thought of Callie's body, curvy, and cinnamon, and pliant. He didn't know if he was going to be able to make another six months without touching her. Looking down at the growing bulge in his scrub pants, he realized he was probably going to have to make the hot shower a cold shower. That or he'd be taking care of Mr. Happy with Mr. Hand again. Ever since he'd found out that Callie was pregnant, Happy and Hand had become the best of friends.

Receiving no response to a second call for Callie, Mark kicked off his shoes and socks and padded barefoot toward their bedroom. As he pulled his shirt off over his head he began to wonder if he should invest in twin beds for their room. Touching Callie, being near her and feeling her warmth, but not being able to 'be with her' was killing him. Twin beds would put distance between them. Mark smirked. _Yeah, Sloan, like anything short of moving to a new state will cool the desire you have for Callie._ And he wasn't even certain that moving to a new state would help him. He had a funny feeling that she'd tattooed him – marking him as hers - and that he'd never be able to escape.

Fortunately for him, he didn't want to escape. He liked being caught by Callie; wrapped in her web.

Dropping his shirt on the floor next to the closet, he turned around in the darkened bedroom and saw Callie's form, curled up on the chair and ottoman they'd purchased a week or so ago.

"Cal?"

She hummed under her breath and shifted slightly, smiling as she fell into a deeper sleep.

"Callie, baby?" Mark crouched beside her and watched her for a few seconds. She was definitely asleep. Pushing a thick lock of hair away from her cheek he let his fingers trace along her jaw. "God you're beautiful." He stayed their watching her for another minute or two, drinking in her form and face, her scent. Finally, however, he had to give in to his knees. Standing up, Mark shook out his legs before bending over, slipping a hand under Callie's shoulders and another under her legs. With a kiss to her forehead, he gently lifted her up and carried her to their bed.

After settling her onto the bed, he took off her shoes and covered her with the comforter.

She stirred as he settled the bedding around her shoulders.

"Mark?"

""Hey Sleeping Beauty." He groaned inwardly as she stretched and curled her hand around his.

"Mmm, what time is it?"

"A little after 8; go back to sleep, you're resting for two now."

"I've got bad news."

Mark's heart skipped a beat.

"Are you okay? Is the baby…?"

"Oh! No! I'm fine. We're fine! I, it's a different kind of bad news. My dad's going to castrate you."

Mark paused before touching his girl's forehead. "Do you have a fever? Are you still asleep?

"Hmm? No, I'm fine. But you won't be." Callie wrapped her fingers though Mark's. "My parents are coming to town next week for Daddy's annual purchasing conference."

"Uh huh." Mark ran his fingers through the curls that framed Callie's head.

Callie pushed Mark's hand away impatiently. "Tu tonto!"

"Somehow, I don't think that was a compliment." Mark was a persistent stubborn man and he lifted his hand back to frame her face and touch the curls along the side of her face.

"Okay, I'm going to use simple words so that you'll understand. George almost got castrated, and all he did was marry me without my parents being aware. YOU'RE living with me, AND you've impregnated me… without my parents being aware. There's not going to be an 'almost' with you. You will be a Eunuch."

Mark laughed.

Callie fumed.

"And while maybe having you be unable to speak might be a good thing, having you be unable to… well… you know." _I'm 30 years old; I can say the word 'fuck'!_ "…'get it up', that would be a bad thing."

"Well it's nice to know you appreciate me for something."

"You give good foot massages too."

Mark laughed again and Callie found herself unable to fight the smile that crept to her lips.

"Mark. Seriously, my dad is going to kill you. And if he tells my brothers about us, you'll be double killed. My family, despite all evidence to the contrary, seems to think I'm still a virgin. And being confronted with the fact that I'm not…."

Mark leaned closer to the mother of his child. "Callie, you worry too much, everything is going to be okay."

"You're delusional."

Mark pressed a kiss to Callie's lips. "I." Kiss. "Promise." Kiss. "Everything." Kiss. "Will." Kiss. "Be." Kiss. "Okay."

Callie breathed him in. She didn't want him to be like air to her, but more and more, he was.

Mark delivered one more kiss before forcing himself to pull away from Callie. "I'm going to go wash the day off of me." _And jack off_ , he added internally. "But I promise you, I'll take care of everything."

Callie snuggled lower in the bed and watched Mark's figure retreat into the bathroom, and for just a second, she believed in Mark. She believed in 'them'.


	13. Spilling the Ablondigas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A great big huge gigantic 'THANK YOU' to Julianaspike for most of the Spanish in this section. (the incorrect stuff is mine! :D) Gracias muchacha

"So what did Richard say?" Mark glanced at Callie's reclining figure. She was laying on her side on the bed keeping his suitcase company; her head being held up by her hand.

"Well, after he picked himself up off of the floor, he congratulated me. And then he reiterated Grey's policy of not giving special treatment to pregnant women. Then, he immediately offered to put me on an easier rotation."

Mark snorted.

Companionable silence filled the room as Callie watched Mark putting enough clothes into his suitcase to get him through the next two days. "I can't believe you're going to Boston."

"It's a pretty big symposium, and they needed someone to fill in as a speaker since Baker's having a baby."

"Baker with a bun in the oven! Ha! Still cracks me up." Callie grinned brightly before turning the conversation back to Mark's trip. "And Richard's okay with you leaving? With no warning?"

"Speakers and symposiums are big deals. It'll be a nice boost for SG to have a board certified doctor attending and speaking at the Annual Reconstructive Surgeons Eastern Conference. Exposure means money."

"So you're fine with leaving me in my current state?" Callie asked with a frown.

Mark stopped in the middle of zipping his luggage shut. He'd been learning, during the past few weeks, that hormones were an ugly thing. "No I'm not fine with it. I don't want to leave you Cal, but, Baker is a friend, the symposium is a good business and resume move." He paused then added, "And you're a tough cookie; you can handle two days without me." He raised his brow teasingly, "can't you?"

She scrunched up her eyes and nose in his direction and rolled onto her back. "You're right. I am a tough cookie. Men stronger than you have broken a tooth on me!" She wrapped her arms around her stomach. "So you'll be back on Sunday?"

"Yes… Tonight is the meet and greet, tomorrow, a couple of speeches, and a dinner/awards thing, then I fly back home bright-ass early on Sunday morning." He walked around the bed and sat down next to Callie's prone figure. Brushing the bangs off of her face, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "Take care of yourself." His voice was low as he placed his hand on her abdomen, "and our son."

Callie blinked back tears. Damn hormones. "I will. I'll be the toughest cookie you've ever seen… and I'll take care of our _daughter_."

Mark grinned, kissed her quickly on the lips, and forced himself to get up and move away from her.

As he reached for his jacket, shrugging it on, Callie mumbled and lifted her perpetually tired body off of the bed, "Who has conferences on a Saturday anyway? Stupid reconstructive surgeons, that's who." Speaking more loudly, she offered again, "Are you sure you don't want me to drive you to the airport?"

"No… you stay here, get some sleep before your shift tonight." He lifted his suitcase and patted down his pockets for his ticket, phone, and wallet. Check check check. Glancing at his watch, he slid one hand around her waist as she stepped in towards him; he kissed her once, then once more. "See you on Sunday."

She watched him walk out of the bedroom and listened intently until she heard the front door open and shut. Only then did she give in to the tears that were building up in her system. "Stupid reconstructive surgeons," she sniffed as she crawled back onto the bed. "Stupid pregnancy hormones!"

* * *

"Mr. Torres? I'm sorry to stop by unannounced like this but, I'm Dr. Mark Sloan and…" _Well that sounds dumb. Kinda really dumb._ He cleared his throat and tried it again.

"Hi. I'm Mark Sloan, the father of your first grandchild." _Okay, that could get me shot._

"I have a reallllly funny story that I want to share with you." _Fuck me!_ Mark ran his hand over his jaw.

He was sitting in his rental car, outside of the Torres home in Florida, trying to plan how he was going to introduce the topic of Living with/and Impregnating Calliope Torres. _How the hell do you broach that subject with someone's parents?!_ Mark had never gotten to this point in a relationship before. He wasn't exactly the type who 'got' into relationships.

_This long-term stuff is for the birds._ But even as he thought about how stupid long-term relationships were, he pushed his way out of the car, tugged the bottom of his leather jacket down and headed to the front door of casa Torres.

_Buuurrrrllllliinnnnnng!_

He listened to the doorbell chime then strained his ears listening for the sound of footsteps or voices.

After a few more seconds he rang the bell again, tapping his hand on the door frame anxiously. It occurred to him, for the first time, that maybe no one was home. Just as he was about to give up, Mark heard a faint voice from behind the door of the cavernous house. _Here we go. He thought, and then he looked down anxiously at his jacket. Maybe I shouldn't have worn the leather, they might think I'm a hoodlum or –_

"Hola, puedo ayudarle?" A woman, standing around 5.3 or 5.4 stood in the entrance of the Torres' home. Other than her height and her age - which looked to be in her early forties, but logically, Mark knew had to be closer to her early fifties - she was the spitting image of Callie.

"Well, at least I know she's still going to be a knockout when she gets older!"

The woman, clearly Callie's mom, smiled – Callie's smile – and responded, "Que? Excuse me, do I know you?"

"I said that out loud didn't I? Sorry. I… you really look like Callie!"

Her smile deepened. "You know my Callie? You are a friend of hers?"

A voice from further inside of the house called out. "Quién es, Anastacia?"

"Es un amigo de Callie, Esteban!" Flipping quickly back to English, Mrs. Torres, Anastacia, asked fretfully, "there's nothing wrong with Callie is there?"

"No. No!" Mark tilted his head to the side and rubbed his chin. "Wellllll, actually…"

"Come in, come in. Where are my manners? We were just about to sit down to dinner you will join us of course."

It wasn't a question. And it wasn't a demand. It was more a statement of fact.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude; I can come back… I guess I'm still on Seattle time, that and we doctors keep some pretty strange schedules."

Mrs. Torres ushered him into her home. "Of course you won't leave! You will stay and eat with us." As she reached for Mark's jacket, she called out to someone in the house, one of Callie's brothers Mark deduced. "Por favor Gabriel, ponga la mesa para uno más, junto a tu padre."

"Eso hago, Ma!" A deep voice yelled out from somewhere off to their right.

"Gracias, amor."

"So, Mr….Dr…?"

"Dr. Sloan. Mark Sloan…" He almost spit it out then. Almost shared with her the big news. He was halted by the entrance of a handsome older man with grey at his temples (far less grey than Sloan himself).

"Hola, cómo estás? Soy Esteban Torres. Bienvenido a nuestra casa." He extended his hand and Mark repeated his introduction.

"I'm Dr. Mark Sloan. I, I… know Callie. Calliope." As he spoke, he noted, inwardly, the firm un-relenting handshake that Esteban Torres delivered. It was a handshake that said, I don't know who you are, but I do know that you are a male and I know that you know my daughter. For those reasons alone, I am warning you that I own guns. A lot of guns. Guns that I'm more than willing to aim at your manhood if I even think that you're even looking at her funny.

Yeah, that's exactly what Esteban Torres' handshake said.

"Welcome to my home Dr. Sloan. Is everything alright, with our bambina?"

"Dr. Sloan was just telling me she's basically fine Esteban. But, I think that it's the 'basically' that he is here for. Is that not so, Dr. Sloan?"

"Mark, please. And yes. Uhm," he squared his shoulders. "I –" How _the hell do you start this kind of conversation with strangers!?_

"Would you care for a drink?" Esteban took half a second of pity on Mark and directed him toward a room that was apparently the family den. Dressed in rich deep browns and tans, the floor and furniture in the room were inviting and relaxing looking. Mark was aware now, that the furniture Callie had been buying for their house, in bits and pieces, was very reflective of the style her parents had in their home. Warm and welcoming.

In the corner of the room a fully stocked bar stood gleaming in cherry and mahogany woods and more crystal and glass than a china shop. It was beautiful, and it was calling Sloan's name; he was going to have to talk Callie into putting one of these in their house.

Esteban was eying Mark carefully, "you look to be a scotch man, Mark. Am I right?"

"Most definitely."

"Good. I have a wonderful bottle over here that I think you'll enjoy. Anastacia and I got it when we went to Scotland three –"

"Four…" his wife corrected gently as she sat down on the couch.

"Ahh, yes, four years ago." Mr. Torres pulled out three glasses, ice cubes, scotch and a Pepsi. As he made the drinks, Mrs. Torres gestured to Mark to take a seat.

"So…, Mark, you've put us at a degree of ease regarding our Callie, but you've also suggested that there is something wrong? Some reason that you've come to visit us?" Mr. Torres spoke as he carried a scotch to Mark, and the soda to his wife. He headed back to the bar for his own glass then settled next to his wife on the couch.

Mark sipped at the scotch, trying to find the right words to start this whole thing off, and then he took a second sip. Three sips in and he'd still said nothing.

The sound of Mrs. Torres clearing her throat finally pushed him to speak.

"Your daughter is stubborn. Really, really stubborn. And smart. And beautiful. God, she's amazingly beautiful… the kind of beautiful that makes men drop to their knees." Mark was looking at both of the Torres' as he spoke, his eyes moving from one to the other. He stood up and began to pace. "She's also shy and vulnerable and hard and tough… and…"

"You came here to share our daughter's characteristics with us?" Mr. Torres interrupted.

"Shhhhsh, Esteban, permítele hablar!" Mrs. Torres placed her hand on her husband's thigh, placatingly, soothingly. She followed Mark's still pacing figure before adding: "You care about Callie, don't you?"

"I..." Mark stopped pacing. "Yes."

"Do you love her?"

"Yes." _Okay. That felt good. That felt damn good. Someone knows. Someone knows I love Callie. It's not the most important someone, but…._

"So you came to Florida to tell my wife and me that you love our daughter?"

"Yes. No. Well, yes."

Mrs. Torres looked at her husband, "and now we're back to where we started."

"I hope you communicate better with your patients than you're doing with us, son."

Mark smiled wryly at Mr. Torres. "I hope so too." Taking his seat again, Mark shook the ice around in his glass before taking a deep breath and diving in. "I love your daughter. We're living together. She's afraid to tell you. And she's even more afraid of telling you she's pregnant; that we're pregnant." Mark swallowed hard and dragged his eyes upwards to the faces of the Torres'. _Okay, shock. Anger. Tears. Anger. Hmm, Mr. Torres seems to be stuck on 'anger.'_ Mark added firmly, ready to take whatever they had to throw at him, "I love Callie."

Slamming his glass down on the coffee table before them, Esteban Torres stood up angrily. "You've come to our home, uninvited, to 'share with us' that you're living with our child? Our only daughter?! And to tell us that you've, you've …! No! Get out of our home!" He turned to his wife, "I told you we shouldn't have let her move to Washington. We shouldn't have let her leave Florida! There are too many 'men'," he spat the word in Mark's direction, "who want to aprovecharte de ella. This is it! Ahora vamos a Seattle and bringing her home!"

"Esteban." His wife put her hand on his; wrapping her fingers around his. Holding him still, quietly tamping down on his blustering anger. She turned to Mark. "Dr. Sloan. Mark. Why are you here? Why did you come to our home with this news? This information?"

Mark leaned forward, carefully placing his own glass on the coffee table that separated him from the grandparents of his child. "Callie is scared. Scared that you won't love her anymore, or," he glanced up at Mr. Torres, "that you'll try and take her away from her friends, away from her home – in Seattle. She's afraid that she's going to disappoint you because of … because we've done things a little backwards."

"A little backwards?! A little backwards!?" Callie's father barked. "You court a woman! You meet her family! You get their approval! You get married! You buy a home! You have children! You don't… drag her off to your cave and… and… No!" Esteban pulled his hand from his wife's grip. Shaking his finger in Mark's face he asked bitingly, "If you have 'simply done things a little backwards'; if you love our daughter so much, why haven't you married her? Why is there no ring on her finger?!"

"Mr. Torres. Mrs. Torres I love Callie and I'd marry her tomorrow if she'd have me. But, she's not only scared of you. She's scared of men – well, of relationships with men. George, George was an ass, and he broke her, in more ways than I would have thought possible. She… I want to marry Callie. I want her to be the mother of not only this child, but of this baby's brothers and sisters." He smiled, "But like I said, your daughter is stubborn."

"Ehhh!"

"Esteban, vamos a ser abuelos. Él la ama. Son buenas noticias. Ahora todo lo que tenemos que hacer, es convencer a nuestra hermosa obstinada hija, de que escuche a la razón...O mas bien su corazón."

"Eh." Callie's father let his wife caress and hold his hand again. "Está bien! Él al menos se acercó a nosotros a diferencia del otro." He appraised Mark. "No voy a matarlo...aún!...Pero si lastima a Calliope...!."

"Si lastima a Calliope, tienes mi permiso para matarlo!."

Mark reminded himself to buy some 'Learn to Speak Spanish' CD's asap as he glanced between Mr. and Mrs. Torres. The storm, as quick as it had been violent, seemed to be over. _It's now or never Sloan_ , he thought to himself. Standing up, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the small velvet box he'd possessed for the past 6 months. Turning to Mrs. Torres he nervously offered the box. "I want to give this to Callie, if… if you think she'll like it."

Anastacia Torres took the box and clicked it open. Glancing inside, her eyes flew up to Mark's face, and then she looked at her husband. She tilted her hands to the side, so that he could see the contents more clearly.

Esteban Torres looked at the contents and gave a conceding grunt.

A grunt of approval Mark thought hopefully.

Snapping the box shut, Mrs. Torres gave the box back to Mark. Squeezing her husband's hand, she released her grasp of him and stepped around the coffee table to Mark's side. Sliding her hand through and around his arm, she led him to the door of the den. "Have you ever had Albondigas, Mark? My family, especially our Callie, loves it."


	14. The How To Guide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A great big huge gigantic 'THANK YOU' to Broodyleyton who was a doll and helped me with a section I was stumped on… sooo: smooches Logan, erh…doll! Thank you big time!

How Not To Seduce A Guy: In Four Easy Steps; by Callie Torres.

**1** Do not contact your best, out-of-state friend and ask her for seduction advice. Do not, especially, do this if your out-of-state friend has slept with the man /woman that you're trying to seduce. You will simply get advice like: _You know, Callie, Sloan always liked me in blue. Go with blue. I think blue 'works' for him._ Note to self: 'BLUE?! You look pale and sickly in blue. You suck in blue! You are hideous in blue…. Pfft! It's probably his favorite color too!'

**2** Do not take your co-worker, your loudmouthed, opinionated co-worker - lingerie shopping with you. Do not, especially, take her lingerie shopping directly after you've informed her you're pregnant, and trying to seduce the man-whore you live with. **-a** Loudmouthed, opinionated co-workers traditionally suck at keeping secrets. **-b** Two secrets at one time is two too many secrets for the loudmouthed, opinionated co-worker to keep without busting a gut, or a lung, or some other vital body part. And these are two, great, big, juicy secrets. **-c** Because your co-worker is 'loudmouthed and opinionated' she will tell you – loudly and opinionatedly: _Torres, you're trying on the blue? Blue makes you look pale and sickly. I thought the object was for you to look hot… like… scorching hot; not feverish sick 'hot'. And while we're on the topic of 'what not to wear', you seriously aren't showing enough skin to 'score the whore'._ Bitch.

**3** Do not, under any circumstances, purchase more than 3 pairs of lingerie during your little trip to the store. Do not, for instance purchase 6 pairs with the thought that you'll make your final choice when you get home. **-a** It won't work. Seduction is not conducive to fully function brain waves… your mind won't be able to make a choice with that many options. **-b** Six is a ridiculous number of outfits to purchase for seduction. Six pairs of lingerie insures that, at some point, you'll end up standing in front of your full length mirror wondering if the red thigh highs, pink boy shorts, and green camisole you're wearing look good. Together…. All at the same time. It'.Pretty. It's not pretty at all. Do NOT be a lingerie hog!

**4** Finally, we all know that candles are romantic. And by mathematical deduction, MORE candles are MORE romantic. Do not, however, forget the most important feature of candles. They, when lit, burn. Stuff. Stuff that comes in contact with them. Like bathroom curtains. I won't go into detail. I don't think I need to, but… well… you've been warned.

Callie paced nervously in the foyer. Waiting for Mark to get back from his stupid symposium so that she could try and convince the stupid man to jump the bones of the woman he'd already impregnated. Cuz that woman was horny. There was no denying it. H.O.R.N.Y. She'd heard that pregnancy made women, well, more excited, but this was ridiculous. The doorknobs were starting to look attractive.

It didn't help that she'd been deprived of Mark's touch for 2 months, and it definitely didn't help that she hadn't even had him in the house for the past 2 days. If this whole stupid 'seduction thing' didn't work tonight…. She sighed and lifted her fingers to mouth. Add to the situation the fact that Mark was late, or rather his plane was late, and Callie felt like she was going to jump out of her skin.

Realizing that she was nibbling at the nails that she'd worked so hard on reshaping and painting, Callie dropped her hand and smoothed it against the silky satiny wine colored baby doll she was wearing. Mark had never seen her in lingerie… they never really needed it before. It was - pre pregnancy - 'clothes on-clothes off'; simple process really. But, apparently, since Mark was content with being a stupid man she was going to have resort to _pulling out the big guns_ , as Yang had so gently put it.

Callie glanced down at her cleavage. The girls had never been so high…. Or so on display.

Yup. Definitely pulling out the big guns.

Glancing at her watch she groaned with frustration. Mark had called twice this morning. Once telling her his plane was delayed and then calling to tell her he was catching a 12pm flight… which would put him back in Seattle at around 4pm. It was 2:00. And Callie was finding out that she wasn't the patient type.

Especially when it came to sex; sex with Mark.

Two hours… What the hell was she going to do for two hours? The strawberries were sliced and on a platter in the fridge. The champagne (for him) and apple juice (for her) was on ice. She'd also purchased a bottle of her father's favorite scotch and had a glass at the ready to tempt Mark with. She had more substantial snacks, for afterwards, ready to go as well. Plopping down on the couch in the living room Callie sighed. _Now all I need is the man._

Kicking off her hideously impractical, but marvelously sexy high heels, she curled up on the couch, carefully arranging the little robe that was part of her seduction outfit over her thighs. With a yawn, she realized, she hadn't taken one of her baby induced cat-naps during the past couple of days. She glanced at her watch again…, she'd become the queen of power naps in the past few months, so one hour should work just fine. She'd be able to wake up with enough time to double check the fruit and the drinks, and to check for any wrinkles in her outfit.

14b 14b 14b 14b

The driveway of his house had never been more of a welcoming sight than it was now. Not even bothering to park the car in the garage, Mark climbed out of the car, leaving his bag in the trunk until tomorrow, or next week, or whenever, and clicking the automatic locks with a beep, he headed to the front door.

It was three o'clock, he was home, and he would be seeing his woman, albeit his reluctant woman, in seconds. _Maybe I can sneak up on her_ , he thought as he unlocked the front door, _I am earlier than planned. Maybe she'll be in the shower… with soap suds on her – okay knock it off Sloan. Callie's off limits, you idiot. No touching, or tasting, or –_

Mark's thoughts halted in mid stride as he entered their home. His nose was greeted by the scent of vanilla and cinnamon, and his eyes had to blink once or twice to take in the candles that created a trail from the front door to the back hall. The hall that led to the bedrooms. She lit candles to welcome me home? Or does she have someone…? Mark took 4steps further into the house and then he saw her. Callie. His Callie.

_I'm in so much fucking trouble_. Walking into the curtained living room, Mark took in the heels lying on the floor next to the couch. And then his eyes moved up to the nylon clad toes, ankles, calves, and thighs of the sleeping Callie Torres. She was wearing sheer black thigh highs, and where the nylons stopped, there was a small expanse of skin, almondy and smooth and bare. Just after that bit of skin, she was wearing something silky, and sexy, and jaw dropping; a nearly non-existent robe that covered a come-hither baby doll in a color that looked like wine. Wine that had been poured and draped over her every curve.

_Shit! I'm in trouble._ Mark's body was reacting to Callie's sleeping form in ways that he couldn't control. He'd always been weak in the control field anyway. Particularly when it came to a certain Latin Bone-Breaker.

Bending over, he slipped his hands under Callie's frame and lifted her from her spot on the couch. He'd been doing a lot of this in the past few months; finding her napping and resting at the strangest of times, and the most unique of places. Normally, however, he was able to get her to bed, make her more comfortable, without giving in to his desire to touch her. Really touch her.

Now, tonight, as he carried her into the bedroom, and he inhaled the vanilla and cinnamon of the candles she'd lit, and he smelled the aroma of the perfume she wore…. Now, tonight, as he carried her into the bedroom and he felt her curves against his body, and he felt the warm silk of the gown she wore….

Fuck me I'm in trouble. He blew out a puff of relief as he lowered her onto their bed. That relief was short lived when he felt her arms slip around his neck.

"You're home?" Callie's voice was husky with sleep and happiness. If she was dreaming and he wasn't home yet, it was a good dream. If she was awake, and he was home, then she was happy that he was so close; that she could feel his strength and his warmth against her body.

"I'm home."

"Good." She yawned happily. Then two seconds later she remembered that she was wearing silk, and they were in a room filled with candles, and she had had big plans for both items. "Wait. What time is it? When did you get home? And how did I get in bed? And if I'm in bed, why the hell am I still dressed!?"

"IT's a little after 3. I just got home. I carried you, and umm, gowns are made for bed." Mark tried to pull back, pull away from Callie; to put some distance between himself and the temptation she represented.

"Not this kind of gown, Sloan. This kind of gown is made for removing."

"Callie –"

"Shut up and kiss me."

"Callie…" his voice was low, the only sign of the stupid war that was raging within him.

"Shut. Up. and. kiss. me." Callie tugged on the back of Mark's neck and mewed happily when he slowly complied.

Between kisses - kisses that used all of their senses: taste, scent, feel, sound… sight – Callie worked at the buttons of Sloan's shirt. They slowly, eventually – much like their wearer – gave in. Twisting and plucking the last one out of its hole, she lifted her hands to his shoulders and pushed the cotton shirt off of his shoulders.

"You're not helping." She whispered in his ear.

"Helping?"

"Your clothes…ohhhhh, uhhh…. Yes, umm off." She curved her head back and gave him better access to her neck. As he shrugged the shirt the rest of the way off of his arms, she added: "This totally isn't how I had this planned."

Mark shifted his frame to more comfortably lay over hers. "Planned, huh?" His lips traced along the thin, thin strap of the gown that was separating his body from hers. He trailed his hand down her side and clutched at the silky material that graced her body, ever so slowly raising it up from her thighs to her hips. While his hand was moving his lips were as well; kissing and sucking and biting all the spots on her neck that he remembered turned her crazy.

"Yes… it… I… okay… yeah… that was good."

She could feel his grin against her neck and she slapped his shoulder. "Stop laughing at me."

"Or what? You'll withhold your affections?" Mark's voice was teasing… that slightly gravely tone that he used to seduce and conquer so many women before her.

"Yes I will!" She felt his hand slide down her hip again. "Starting tomorrow," she bit out crossly.

Mark laughed and nuzzled his beard into her cleavage. "I guess I better take advantage of this offer of Torres Nookie while I can, huh?"

"I swear Sloan," she bit her lip to keep back a moan as he curled his fingers around the waistband of her thongs, "If you weren't so good with your hands..." His tongue flicked at her cloth covered nipple. "Geeeeees, ummmm and with your tongue…."

"Did you just compliment my sexual prowess Torres?"

"No."

"Torres… ? Callie….?" He stopped the journeying his hand had begun between her legs.

"Crap! Yes… you're a sexual god… now just prove it!"

Sloan chuckled and then pulled Callie's thong all the way down, allowing her to kick it off the bed.

Taking a long look at the woman lying in his bed: one leg cocked up in a teepee, her arms resting beside her head on the pillows, Mark realized he was lucky. Really, really lucky. So lucky, that he was BOUND to fuck up. And fuck up royally.

Callie opened her eyes and looked at mark, sitting at the foot of the bed, watching _her_. _What the…?_

"Sloan?" His eyes lifted from her frame to her face and she saw something… something she couldn't quite define, pass through his eyes. As soon as she saw it though, it was gone. It was gone, and Sloan still hadn't moved. She mentally crossed her fingers that he wasn't disappointed with the changes that were taking place in her body – now that he'd seen them up close. Pushing herself to be playful, she spoke again, "Okay Sloan, I know you like looking, but you'll like 'doing' soooooo much more. Pants. Off. Now."

Shaking off the malaise that had grabbed hold of him, Mark stood up, unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, and dropped trou. Crawling up the length of her body, letting his eyes take her in as his mouth searched for places to taste and touch, Mark finally let his eyes study her face. She was beautiful, all flushed and aroused. Even that hint of irritation that lurked in the corners of her eyes was sexy.

"Finally," Callie breathed.

Sloan smirked leaving his body a few inches away from hers, his arms bracing him up and away from her.

"Did I say that out loud?" Callie closed her eyes and blushed.

"Yeah you did Torres."

"Fuck. Will you just… do something to shut me up all right already!?"

"I think I can handle that."

Their eyes remained connected as he positioned himself at her entrance, his cock firm and hard as he rubbed it along her slit, slicking it in her warmth in preparation of entering her. Callie bit her lip as he pushed into her welcoming body, but she purred as he hit rock bottom. One of them, she didn't know if it was him or her, sighed, and then they both groaned in pleasure as he began a slow steady stroke in and out of her heat. It felt amazing. Delicious, decadent, 'right': _amazing,_ to be this close to him again. And, if she weren't so lost in the moment Callie might have noticed that Mark was right there in heaven beside her; feeling how wonderful it was to be home again.

14c 14c 14c 14c

How **To** Seduce A Guy: In Four Easy Steps; by Callie Torres.

**1** Go ahead, nearly burn down house with the use of way to many candles.

**2** Go ahead and be a lingerie hog if you want to. If it makes you happy, go for it. Keep in mind, however, that he will only see your outfit for a total of 3 minutes, during which time his eyes will blur with lust, and he'll drool a bit; he'll then proceed to rip your silky, lacy, satiny purchase right off of you, so, you might not want to spend a ton of money on them.

**3** Feel free to fall asleep while waiting for him to get home. He'll think you're hot and sexy, sleeping or standing up with drink in hand. (See step 2 for explanation).

**4** And, for an extra 'round', go ahead and tell him, just before he falls asleep, and after he's rocked your world 2x's in 2 hours, that you're going to give your loudmouth opinionated co-worker the thumbs up to spread the news about your relationship with the world….

He'll be ready for a third trip around the world in less than a minute.

Guaranteed ..., or your money back.


	15. The Many Sounds of Silence

**15a 15a 15a 15a 15a**

"So, I hear," Yang spoke as she pushed through the door of the call-room, "one of us has been majorly glowing the past few days, and not just in an 'I'm carrying the anti-christ baby' kind of way." She eyed Torres. "So is the glowage because the seduction went well?" Yang had been off for two days and was just now getting a chance to pin Callie down and pry for information.

Callie was silent, simply smiling a little bit wider as she continued to review the chart she'd been studying.

"That's a 'hella yes' smile if ever I saw one." Yang plopped down at the table next to Callie, her own stack of charts in hand. "Any details you want to share?" She paused a beat then continued. "C'mon… anything? I'll take just one bit of info.: How many orgasms have you had since he's been back? Did his jaw hit the floor when he saw the lingerie? Did his KNEES drop to the floor when he saw the lingerie?" Yang looked at Callie expectantly. Nothing but a smile.

"Really? C'mon! A girl helps you get your groove back, and everything is going well in your life and you clam up like a… a... fucking clam?" More silence. "Where's the story Torres… the dirt… the juice… the good stuff?" With a sigh at the continued smile-filled silence, Yang temporarily retreated and moved on to another topic.

"So how'd things go with the Balman case?"

"Saved his fingers; all of them. If he keeps up with his rehab, I think he'll regain 100% mobility again."

"I thought they were pretty mangled?"

"They were… I'm just that good."

"Ugggh! Sloan cockiness is rubbing off on you!" Yang tried to snoop again… "And in you right? Sloan cockiness is rubbing off ' _in'_ you?"

Callie simply grinned.

"And we're back to silence. Okay, If this is how you treat your secret keepers, I'm giving you fair warning that the next secret you share with me is being immediately blabbed to the 1st 10 people I meet." Slouching in her chair Yang mumbled, "what kind of fun is it being a secret keeper if you don't get the dish?!"

"Make your own dish, Yang. How are things going with Ted?"

Cristina's mouth popped shut and she realized just how absolutely fascinating her charts were. _Manilla. Folders. Wow. Utterly, utterly intriguing._

Glancing up at the hush that followed her question, Callie slapped her own chart shut and leaned in toward Yang. "You're blushing! YOU'RE BLUSHING!"

"Shut up! I am not!"

"Oh. My. God! What's up with Ted? What'd he do to bring the blush out on you?"

"Nothing!"

Callie peered at Yang.

"NOTHING! Really! He's been a perfect gentleman. Kisses… hands above the waist… gentlemanly stuff."

Callie crossed her arms over her chest and raised a brow.

"And… and he wants to take things slow. Because he fucking likes me."

"He likes you?" Callie grinned.

""Yes damn you, he really really likes me, and he really wants 'this' to go somewhere, and he really doesn't want to fuck things up so, he's taking things really really slowly, and…. I'm not talking about this anymore." Evil grin on her face, Yang attacked with a question of her own. "So today is the day your parents get into town, right?"

Callie's face dropped like a rock. "You just had to find a pin, point it at my balloon, and go 'pop' didn't you?"

Yang's face lit up, "Hey, it's what I do!"

**15b 15b 15b 15b 15b**

Alternating between the joy of 2-3 days of Mark filled bliss, and nausea filled anxiety over how she was going to share that 'bliss' with her parents, Callie trekked to the 3rd floor nursing station. Dropping the pile of paperwork that Seattle Grace insisted didn't exist – _paperless society my ass_ – on top of the station counter, she felt around in her pocket for a pen.

"And how are we feeling today Dr. Torres?"

Callie looked up to see Webber sitting a few feet away from her. Quirking an eyebrow, she eyed him from her spot in front of the station. "I'm… fine." She bit the bullet. "What're you doing?"

"Manning the station."

"You're the chief of surgery!"

He responded dryly, "Thank you for pointing that out Dr. Torres, I'd forgotten that fact."

"But… umm, what are YOU doing manning the nurses' station?"

"Dr. Bailey."

A two word answer was all he offered, and basically, all Callie needed to hear. Glancing surreptitiously around her, Callie leaned forward and lowered her voice. "She's short, but scary isn't she?"

A rare smile graced Dr. Webber's face. "Frightening," was his understated reply. Bringing their conversation back around to where it started, he asked again, "And how ARE you feeling Dr. Torres? Everything all right?"

She knew he was asking about her pregnancy in as subtle a manner as he could manage. "I'm doing great." She unconsciously dropped one hand to her belly. "We're doing great; and you'll be happy to know that I've spread the word…, well, Yang has, so it's pretty much public knowledge now."

"Good. The secrecy was killing me."

"You handle private confidential, budget, PR and HR issues all of the time, and MY secret was killing you?"

"Dr. Torres, in case you weren't aware, the biggest talk in this hospital, next to Dr. McDreamy, is Dr. McSteamy. Anything doing with the two of them is big news."

Callie was surprised that Webber was so obviously aware of what made the staff world go round at Seattle Grace. But before she could express her surprise, his relief, in the form of an R.N. arrived.

Willingly giving up his chair to his replacement, he gathered up his belongings. Walking around the nurses' station he stopped by Callie's side. "Well, if there is anything Seattle Grace can do for you Dr. Torres, just let me know."

She knew it was petty and selfish, but she couldn't help herself. Turning to face the COS, Callie hesitated for a second then pushed forward. "Actually, there is something that you could do. I…" glancing at the nurse behind the desk, she stepped closer to Webber and lowered her voice. "I can't believe I'm going to ask this, but, could you try and keep Sloan's out-of-state trips to a minimum for the next six or seven months?"

Webber raised a brow. "I think we can do that. When was his last conference? June? May?" Webber scribbled a reminder note to himself, missing the look that passed over Callie's face.

She quickly schooled her features and offered, "I think he had a Plastic Surgery and Reconstructive Surgeons conference? In Boston?"

"Hmmm. Quite possible, I'll have to check when the last conference he went to was. We, of course, want our doctors to publish, and present as well as treat, but," Webber smiled, "in the case of father's to be, we understand a shift in responsibilities. I'll do what I can to keep him grounded for another 6-7 months." With a smile he nodded at Callie, "Now, Dr. Torres, if you'll excuse me, I'm escaping before Dr. Bailey comes back and commandeers me for some other duty."

Callie didn't smile, or laugh. She didn't even hear his parting words. She stared at his retreating back and all she saw was Mark. Mark walking out of their house this past Friday 'to go to a conference Webber had approved'.

Mark had lied to her. He'd lied to _her._ Webber might be busy, and have a lot of people to keep track of, but he'd said it himself, anything that had to do with Derek or Mark was big news. Important news. Webber hadn't known that Mark was leaving for a conference.

_Mark lied to me…._

**15c 15c 15c 15c 15c**

Callie wasn't positive how she'd managed to make it through the two remaining hours on her shift. She was pretty certain, however, that she wasn't smiling OR glowing one bit.

Being cheated on by George had been hard. She'd opened herself up to him, maybe not fully, but she _had_ opened herself up. And he'd taken Izzy Stevens and cut a hole into Callie's side with her; doing exactly what she'd been afraid he'd do. Being betrayed by George had been hard; but being cheated on by Sloan? She couldn't describe how she felt. Or rather, how she didn't feel. She was numb. The kind of numb that came right before you realized you were missing a limb. Or an organ. Like a heart.

Of course, she knew she couldn't be missing her heart. For her to be missing her heart, she would have had to have exposed it to Mark; to have given him access/power over her heart. _To have loved him_. And she hadn't done that. She hadn't been stupid enough to do that.

Her home.

Her bed.

Those she'd shared with him, but, not the heart. She knew better than that.

**c**

Excising Mark from her life, and maybe cutting off his cock, were the only things that Callie allowed herself to think about as she drove home. And if he'd been unfortunate enough to be IN the house when she walked in, castration might have been an option. As it was, he wasn't home; which, fine, gave her enough time to work on the excision part of her plan.

15 minutes later she was crying and ranting and swearing at the invisible Mark. She was also taking scissors to his expensive Armani suits and treasured leather jacket.

When she heard his car pull up to the house, Callie stiffened and shoved the clothing in her hand into the suitcase. Propelling the pile of clothes and the suitcase outside of the bedroom door she slammed the door shut and locked it; gearing herself up for confrontation with Mark. _And my parents due in town any minute. Seriously, why today? Why did Mark have to do this to her today? Ever? Why?_

**15d 15d 15d 15d 15d**

Mark kept his voice low as he pointed out some of the features of the neighborhood he and Callie lived in to the Torres'. Offering Mrs. Torres his hand to help her out of the car, he stated. "The look on her face when she saw this place was priceless. I mean, we'd looked at a lot of places, apartments, condos…, a lot, A LOT of places, but this house? The real estate agent almost drooled when she saw the look on Callie's face." Quietly shutting the car door he walked them up to the front door; Mr. Torres nodding his approval at the look of the house, and Mrs. Torres wringing her hands nervously, anxiously, in a desire to see her daughter.

"So she's home," Mark nodded his head the car parked haphazardly on the street, "but like I said, she's still wound up about breaking the news to you guys."

"As she should be," stated mr. Torres, temporarily miffed at his daughter. His frown turned into a grin of excitement a second later at the thought of actually seeing his little girl again.

"Yeah, uh, I promise, the next baby, I'll tell you about as soon as I find out myself." Mark offered with a smile. Slipping his key in the lock, Mark lifted his finger to his lips motioning for Callie's parents to quietly follow him in to the house.

"Cal?!"

Silence.

"Callie, baby?!" He tried again, "I've got a surprise for you!"

Ddddd

From her spot behind the bedroom door Callie listened to Mark's cheerful voice calling out to her. _I hate him. God, I hate him so much! So much it hurts._ The numbness was wearing off, and an aching, tearing pain was taking its place.

" _Callie, baby?! I've got a surprise for you!"_

' _Yeah well, I have a surprise for you too!'_

_God! How had she allowed herself to get involved, AT ALL, with a man-whore!? With THE man-whore?! What had she been thinking?!_

Not getting a response to his calls, Mark turned to the Torres', "She's probably napping, sleep; and ice cream seem to be her favorite things the past few months." He motioned for them to follow him down the hall to the bedroom _. He'd peek in to see if she was decent and if so, maybe he'd send her mom in to wake her up._ He smiled, _that'll probably freak Callie out, but in a good way._

As they turned the corner, Mark stopped. A pile of his clothing, sat chaotically in a suitcase just outside of their bedroom.

_What the fuck!?_ As he stepped closer, he noted that part of the chaos lay in the fact that the clothing was ripped or shredded or something.

"Callie?" His voice wasn't as strong as he wanted it to be. But then again, neither was his heart. "Callie? Are you in there? Baby, open up." He kicked the clothes to the side and leaned his head in to the door, his ear pressed against the wood.

"… _baby, open up"'_ Callie tried to choke back the sob that wanted to escape her. Now's not the time to get emotional Torres. Kick his ass first, then break down and cry.

"Go away Mark! Take your shit and go away!"

He almost sighed with relief when he heard her voice. _At least she was okay. If ripping up someone's clothes and locking yourself in a bedroom could be considered 'okay'._ Her parents forgotten, Mark worked on solving the unexpected crisis.

"In case you forgot, Cal, I live here. Why do you want me to go?" He said it and regretted it as soon as the words left his mouth. "Is it your hormones again?"

"My…! My hormones!? Oh my God! You… you… you… MAN! No it's not my hormones! My hormones, which, by the way, YOU caused to go crazy by planting your seed in me, are fine! They're wonderful! They're doing just what they should be doing. As a matter of fact, you're lucky that my hormones ARE so under control, or you'd be without your cojones as we speak! So, yeah, don't mock the hormones!" _Ass!_

Mark didn't speak much Spanish.

Okay 'any' Spanish. But he knew cojones. And he was rather fond of his. _So, apparently, I need to tread lightly here._

Too bad he and Callie didn't do 'lightly' well.

"Callie open the door!" He tried the knob again. Yup, still locked.

"Mark, GO AWAY!"

"NO!"

Silence.

"I can outwait you here Cal… I've got the food and the kitchen. Open up the door and let's talk about whatever is bothering you."

"Fine! You want to talk about it, Let's talk! You're cheating on me!"

"I am?!"

"Don't be an ass. And don't bother trying to deny it. I know you're cheating on me!"

Mark heard shifting in the hall behind him and turned to see Mrs. Torres soothingly holding on to her husband's clenched fists.

_Crap._ Clearing his throat nervously, Mark turned back to the door that separated him from Callie. "Callie, baby, I don't know what you're talking about. Did someone at the hospital suggest that I was running around or something?"

More silence. _Why do women always resort to the silent treatment? And why the hell does it work so well?_

"Callie, I'm not cheating on you. I'm not playing around. You're the only one I've been 'playing' with." _And you're the only one I WANT to play with._

"Liar!"

"Jesus!" He heard a small mew of disapproval from Mrs. Torres. "Callie, I'm not lying! I don't know how you got this idea in your head, or who put it there, but baby, I'm not -." He paused. _She thinks I'm cheating on her. And she's mad. Really, really mad. We've fooled around while being with one another in the past and it never bothered her. Why now?"_

"I hate you!"

"You love me!" Mark crowed. She loved him, or at least she cared about him. Otherwise, the thought of him 'cheating on her' wouldn't bother her so much. "Callie Torres, you fucking love me!"

"Listen you hijuep-"

"Calliope Iphigenia Torres!" Mrs. Torres interrupted her daughter through the door. "Finish that sentence and I don't care how old you are, I will wash your mouth out with soap!"

You could have heard the sound of crickets, if there had been any, in the silence that followed.

Crawling into a standing position from her spot on the floor in front of the door, Callie called out, hesitantly, "Mama?"

"Hija…"

Callie's mind spun. _Her mom was here? What was she doing here, now? How had she gotten in? Why hadn't she…,_ "Papa?"

"Si, Callie."

_Why hadn't her mother and father called her? Had Yang given them her address too?!_

"Mama, Papa, what're you guys doing here?"

"Calliope, open the door."

You're never really old enough to ignore the request of a parent. Are you?

Taking a deep breath, Callie reached for the lock and flipped it. Eyeing Mark briefly, then glancing past him to her parents, she tried to piece together what she was seeing; her parents and Mark in the same space - and no bloodshed occurring. "What's going on here?"

"That's what I'd like to know." Mark stated, dragging her attention back to him.

"We'd kind of like to know the answer to that question too," Callie's dad added.

"Hush, Esteban."

"Callie, what's gotten in to you? What made you think I –," now that he could see her face Mark could read the riot of emotions that were running through her. Hurt, anger, confusion. He could also see the remnants of tears that had tracked down her face. She'd been crying. Over him. He reached for her.

Flinching away from Mark's hand, Callie focused her anger at him. "You lied to me."

"Huh?"

"I know you lied to me, so that you could go spend time with some… some, whore! Probably a blonde. Probably model gorgeous. And thin!" Callie wrapped her arms around her waist protectively, her eyes skittering to her parents. Centering her eyes on him again, Callie studied Mark. "Who is she? Who have you been… sleeping with?"

The pieces were starting to click into place in Mark's mind. Slowly, but surely. "I'll answer your question if you answer mine."

Something inside of Callie broke. Shattered into a million shards. _He's going to admit it. He did it. He cheated on me._ Callie didn't feel like fighting anymore. She didn't feel like talking, or even standing anymore. All she wanted to do was sleep and forget. And cry.

Biting her lower lip to keep back the tears. "What's your fucking question?"

"How did you come to the conclusion that I'm playing around on you?"

"Webber."

"Webber?"

"You said you got his approval to go to a conference in Boston last weekend. He knew nothing about it." Callie's tear filled eyes accused Mark. "You lied to me. You lied to me so that you could go run off and meet some other woman."

Callie didn't hear the sigh of relief that her parent's exhaled. All she could hear or see was Mark. She scanned his face and saw … happiness? there.

Mark was happy. He could fix this. This could be fixed.

"I didn't go to Boston. You're right. I went to Florida."

"So the hoochie lives in Florida? Who is she Mark? Do I know her?"

He grinned.

_Why is he grinning!?_

"Sorry about this Mrs. Torres, but: Callie, meet the hoochie." Mark waved his hands in the direction of Callie's parents.

At the still confused look on Callie's face, Mark took pity on his pregnant woman and spelled things out. "You were stressed about telling your parents about the house, and us, and the baby, so, I flew to Florida this weekend and, uh, spread the good news to your parents in person." Callie's eyes got big. "I honestly didn't know how they were going to take it, so I didn't tell you what I was planning, and then afterwards, it just seemed like a nice surprise for you."

Callie glanced at her parents for confirmation. Her mother nodded and her dad verbalized: "Este hombre que tengo gusto!"

_He didn't cheat on me. He didn't cheat on me! Oh God! I think I love Mark Sloan!_ With a sob Callie threw herself at Mark and mumbled an apology into his chest. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." She sniffed against his frame. "You're going to hate me!"

"I wouldn't begin to know how to hate you Callie." His arms were around her, and his head was buried in her hair.

"You WILL hate me! I killed your leather jacket!"

Mark's laughter wrapped around her, letting her know, better than words could have, that he didn't hate her. He actually, kind of liked her.


	16. What Makes Us Tick

 

"You are one lucky son of a bitch, Sloan." Ted chuckled and took a sip of the scotch Mark had served him.

"Tell me about it."

"No, really, that mess could have gone a totally different way. Callie could have been pissed beyond all get out when she found out you'd gone behind her back to her parents."

"Yeah, well, I guess I'm lucky she was already angry… angrier, at my supposed infidelity."

"She really cut your jacket?"

"I could make leather Band-Aids out of it."

"You know that could have been your ass."

"Did I mention that her parents were standing right there, glaring at me as Cal accused me of cheating on her?"

"You did; you did indeed. Like I said buddy, you're one lucky son of a bitch."

"Yeah… lucky." Mark threw back the last of his scotch and stood up to get some more.

"Okay, what's that?"

"What's what?"

"The morose, sad, dark, half-assed 'I'm lucky' thing you just did."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You lie well to women. You don't lie well to men."

"I lie well to everyone…. Not that I'm lying."

"So pretend you **are** lying. What would you be lying about?"

Mark sat back down, staring into his glass. "I have a ring." He looked up. "An engagement ring. For Callie."

"Good."

Mark smiled. "I think it's good. Her parents think it's good. I'm not so certain about Callie."

"She turned you down?" Disbelief tainted Ted's tone.

"I haven't actually asked her."

"Well get off your ass Sloan and ask the woman already!"

"Easy for you to say. You aren't an ill-reputed man-whore, who could only get the woman he's crazy about to spend time with him by bribing her with a title and position at the hospital."

"What have you and Callie been doing for the past 6 months!?" Ted spit out frustratedly.

"Huh?"

"Seriously, for being such smart people, the two of you are a pair of dumbasses. Dumb and blind."

Mark inclined his head and raised a brow.

"Seriously, in six months, you haven't figured out how to tell Callie how you feel about her? She's carrying your child and you're clueless as to how she feels about you?"

"Her carrying my child doesn't mean anything Ted. It's all part of our deal. Bear child – secure doctor-hood."

"And you really don't think she has any other motive for moving in with you, sleeping with you, procreating with you!?"

"What other reason could she have?" Mark dove into his scotch.

"Why am I surrounded by idiots?" Ted muttered to himself. "You don't think that maybe Callie has half an attachment to you? That she might like you?"

"No… I don't know. She's confusing. Women are confusing. One minute, I think she's fallen for my God given, amazing charms, and the next, I think she's just humoring me. Or worse, that she hates me." Mark grimaced, "Yeah, I've definitely seen 'dislike' emanating from her eyes…. God I miss the days when we could just clunk women over the head and drag them back to our caves."

Ted laughed. "You are so pussy whipped it's sad."

"It's an amazing pussy."

"TMI dude!" Glancing at his watch, Ted put down his drink and stood up. "Okay, I've gotta go pick up Cristina." Taking a breath he added, "This is kind of a grey fuzzy area here, but, technically, I'm your lawyer and not hers so I'm going to tell you something that maybe I shouldn't."

"Hit me."

"A day or two after we met to create the contract you and Callie signed, she called me and had me strike out the part of the contract that stated you were responsible for finding her a position at SG. The documents you signed don't require you to do anything for Callie."

"What?"

"She had me take out the 'you owe me big time' clause. You owe her jack shit – at least, not in writing."

"Why the hell would Callie do that? And why didn't you tell me about the change."

"Her exact words were, tell Sloan, and I'll not only NOT go through with the plan, but I'll break a bone or two; which she assured me she knew how to do."

"Oh, she does. Her hands were made for bones."

"Did we just step into TMI land again?"

Mark grinned then reminded Ted, "You didn't tell me why she took the clause out."

Opening the front door to Callie and Mark's home, Ted snorted, "Don't be an idiot Mark. Even if Callie HADN'T removed the clause from the contract, any idiot to could tell - after seeing her with you these past few months - that she's crazy about you." And with that, Ted walked out.

_She took the clause out. So I'm not required to…. Maybe she does feel something for me… for us… but if she does, why hasn't she said anything?_ Mark shook his head, stood up and walked into the bedroom. Opening the closet, he reached into the toe of his running shoes and pulled out the blue box.

'Time to stop being a chicken-shit Sloan.'

**16b 16b 16b 16b**

Callie walked into the house, her parents in tow and sniffed appreciatively. Mark had cooked. It smelled like chili or spaghetti, but whatever it was, she definitely wanted two servings.

"Mark! We're back!"

"So he cooks too?" Her mother asked teasingly.

Callie smiled. "He has many talents."

"If he's so talented why haven't you married him?" Her father asked gruffly.

"Esteban."

"Papa!" Callie exclaimed before muttering quietly, "Because Mark's not the marrying type."

"No?" Her mother wrapped an arm around her daughter's waist and guided her to the kitchen.

"No. He's the run free, sow wild oats, and keep his eyes out for the next best thing, kind of guy."

"Are you sure about that mi amore?"

"Yes, I –" Callie stopped short as they entered the kitchen and saw Mark wearing earphones, jeans, and an unbuttoned shirt.

"He's definitely cute," her mother offered with a smile.

"Mama!" Turning pink, Callie moved to Mark's side and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Fuc – erh – fudge!" Mark glanced at Callie's parents then back down to her, tugging the earphones out of his ears, he leaned forward and kissed Callie, "you guys scared the crap out of me."

"Sorry." She momentarily let her head fall against his chest as his arm slipped around her waist. "What are you making?"

"Dinner."

"No shit Sherlock."

"Callie!" Her mother warned with a tired voice.

"Fine. I don't care what you're making, as long as it's hot and saucy and I can have lots and lots of it. I'm starving."

Patting her on the tush Mark released her. "Why don't you go change out of those shoes, put on your slippers, and wash your hands? I'll have dinner on the table in about 15 minutes."

Callie didn't spend much time wondering how Mark had known her feet were killing her. She'd kind of given up on wondering how he read her so easily. It had been unnerving at first, but now, now it was kind of comforting. Turning to her mom she suggested, "Mom maybe you can try on that dress so that we're certain it fits."

As the Torres feathered out of the room Mark felt his gut tighten. In twenty minutes he was going to do it. In twenty minutes he was going to 'pop the question' to Callie Torres…. In front of her parents. (Somewhere in the back of his mind her realized that asking her to marry him 'in front of her parents' was a bit of a cowards way out… he was hoping she'd find it harder to say 'no' to him with others around. But, in the long run he'd decided that while it might be cowardly, they also said all w fair in love and war).

Lifting the top on the chili he added the last ingredients – the chilies – so that they could simmer for 10 minutes in the pot.

He, the man who never got nervous about anything was nervous. He never got nervous about anything unless it had something to do with Callie Torres. And then, fuck, all of his self control and confidence faded like the wind.

Pulling the box out of the drawer he'd stashed it in while cooking, he shoved the ring into his pocket and started to button up his shirt as he walked toward the bedroom to check on Callie's feet.

**16c 16c 16c 16c**

She'd kicked off her shoes with glee as soon as she entered the bedroom, squishing her toes into the soft carpet that covered the floor – trying to revitalize her aching tootsies. Bending to strip off her pants, which suddenly seemed to be constricting her, she almost toppled over. She still wasn't use to carrying as much weight on her frame as she now was. Holding on to the bed for support she tugged at the pants a bit before sitting down and scooching them all the way off.

_Oh yeah, much better._

Since she was apparently changing all of her clothes for dinner, Callie stood up and started to unbutton her satiny top; appropriate for shopping with mom and dad, but impractical for an evening home having dinner with her family.

Undoing the final button, she pushed it open and stared down at her belly. She was huge. And she wasn't even done growing yet. Curving her hands around her stomach, one on top and one below her growing bump, she rubbed her skin slowly. _Some things were definitely worth gaining weight over. Things like this baby._

She wondered what their child would look like? Would it have her nose? And her eyes? Or would it have Mark's nose and devilish smile? No matter what, she pondered with a smile, their baby would have a definite personality. How could it not with parents like her and Mark?

**16d 16d 16d 16d**

Mark walked into their room and saw Callie, half undressed, her hands touching her stomach, reverently, lovingly. She was lost in thoughts, happy thoughts from the small smile on her face and he moved up behind her and slid his arms around her, covering her hands with his own. As she relaxed against him, he marveled at her body. At her belly and her face; all of her was amazing. Even her hands. Her hands always had, and always would amaze him. So beautiful, so delicate when they touched him, or cared for a patient, but they were also strong; strong enough to break and reset bones. Strong enough to hold him close and make him act like a fucking emotional… sap. Him, Sloan, the ever elusive, guys guy.

Even as he had these thoughts, Mark held her close and realized he wouldn't change a thing. He liked being lost in Callie Torres. And it was at that moment that he changed his plans and reached into his pocket with one hand to pull out the box.

Bringing his arm back around to Callie's front, he held the closed box out for her to view.

Callie stiffened and swallowed hard. Her breath stopped for a second as she eyed the small container being presented to her.

"What the fuck is that?" _Classy Torres_.

"Open it up and find out."

"No."

"Callie…"

"No!" She pulled away from his warmth. Shit-brick frightened at what she thought the box contained… of what it meant. She backed away from him, intent upon escaping; escaping a little blue box.

Mark took a deep breath and forged ahead. Flipping open the box he asked, quietly, more than a little afraid of her answer, "Callie Torres, will you marry me?"

Callie's shoulders dropped in defeat. There it was. The question. Now, now everything would all disappear. Her insides gripped and folded inwards.

She could live with him, she could bear his child. They had a contract. There was an end date in sight. That was a fact that she had clung to, it was the only thing she had had to hang on to; to keep her from falling. Falling endlessly and hopelessly in love with Mark Sloan.

But now, now he'd asked the question. He'd upped the ante. He had made it so that there would, maybe, be no end in sight. No clean cut way for her to escape him.

She wasn't strong enough to be with him forever and not fall. She wasn't positive that she strong enough to be with him even for a short term and not fall for him. Hell, she **knew** she wasn't strong enough.

"No. No. I - I can't."

"Can't, or don't want to? Won't?"

"Why are you doing this Mark? Why now? Why at all? Why – why can't we just do what we planned to do? Live together for a while, have our child, and, and go our separate ways?"

"Why did you change the contract?"

They were always circling, dancing around the truth, weren't they? Neither one wanting to be the first to truly open themselves to the other; afraid, scared, terrified that their fragile hearts would be destroyed.

"I'm going to kill Ted." She drew her shirt closed around her waist. "What happened to Lawyer/client confidentiality?"

"Why did you do it Callie?"

"I'm a woman. Do I really have to have a reason for doing something? We're capricious spirits."

"Bullshit. Why'd you do it Callie?"

"Why are you asking me to marry you?"

"I'm a man. Do I really have to have a reason for doing something? We're stupid creatures."

She echoed him, "Bullshit."

"I'm thinking," Mark edged closer to Callie, "I'm thinking you changed that contract for me."

"Ha!" Callie backed up again, her hips coming in contact with the armoire. _Shit._

"I'm thinking," he was now a foot away from her, "I'm thinking you might, kind of, sort of, like me."

She laughed again, this time less convincingly.

Mark stopped right in front of her, and placed his free hand on her hip. "Callie, tell me the truth."

"I can't." She dropped her head against his chest. "I can't."

Mark buried his nose in her hair; taking in the scent of her shampoo, and the perfume she'd put on that morning. He gathered a small bit of strength from her scent and from the feel of her arms around his waist; her warmth against his body. "I… want you to be my wife because, I kind of like you, Torres. I _more_ than kind of like you; I think you've broken me for all other women. You make me happy. Down to the toes happy."

She held her breath then asked, lightly, "So, you're letting your toes do your thinking for you now?"

"Toes, skin, veins…, heart."

Callie lifted her head and let her chocolate browns connect with Mark's blues. "Heart?"

"Seems to be doing most of my thinking these days."

"Really?"

She hadn't pushed him away yet. She hadn't laughed at him. She was just looking at him. He was taking these things to be good signs. "I think you like me, you may not like me as much as I like you, but, we get each other Callie. We understand how one another thinks, what makes each of us tick. Hell, I don't even look at other women anymore."

Callie rolled her eyes.

"Well, okay, I look, but it's purely from an aesthetical point of view, I'm a plastic surgeon." He touched her face, brushing the hair away from her cheek. "All the other women fall short of you, Cal. They're not tall enough, or not short enough, not curvy enough, not brunette enough, not as beautiful as you. I'm always comparing them to you. And you always win."

"What about in three months when I've gained 15 more pounds and I look like a tan, beached whale?"

"You'll be my, beautiful, tanned, beached whale."

She snorted.

"What? You didn't know I had a thing for beached whales of Latin descent?"

"You were supposed to say, 'You won't look like a beached whale, Callie'."

"I'd hate to lie."

She whacked him on the chest.

Nuzzling his mouth to her ear, Mark whispered, "Do you like me Callie?"

She hid her head against his chest again. "If you hurt me Mark Sloan, I will castrate you and do a dance in spiked heels on the part I cut off." Her voice was firm and controlled, but her hands clung to him desperately.

"Message received and understood." He pulled her into a tight hug and asked again, softly, "will you marry me Callie Torres?"

Just as softly, she whispered back, "Yes."

**16e 16e 16e 16e**

I'm holding the most beautiful girl in the world in my arms. Her head is tucked against my chest, my arms wrapped around her, and she sleeps. Her beautiful blue grey eyes shuttered against the dim lights of the hospital room as I hum a song I didn't know I knew - just for her.

Callie is asleep too, her valiant, heroic struggle to bring this beautiful creature into the world having left her tired, and worn, and blissfully happy. As I hold our daughter, I watch Callie and thank God. I've never been a particularly religious man, but at a time like this, holding the miracle that is Simone Anastacia Sloan, yeah… God deserves a little attention.

**16e1 16e1 16e1 16e1**

Callie stirred in the bed, her eyes blinking open and taking in the sight of the man she loved, holding the child they'd created. She spoke tenderly, "I don't know which one of you I love more."

Mark looked up with a grin, "You're awake. How are you feeling?" Balancing the baby carefully, he leaned forward and kissed Callie's forehead.

"Like my vagina just got run over by a Mack truck." She smiled. "That, and happy. Unbelievably happy."

Mark sat down on the edge of the bed and slowly shifted their daughter over to Callie's arms. He felt the loss instantly. But the feeling of loss was filled almost immediately by the sight of Callie staring with awe at Simone.

"We did this huh?" She touched the baby's nose with a finger. Mark's nose.

"You did it; I just donated a little genetic material." He ran his hand through the curls on top of Simone's head. "Thanks for doing such a good job, Mama Sloan."

"No problem. Any time." Callie bent forward and kissed Mark's cheek. "Thanks for loving me."

He caught her eyes. "No problem. Any time."

FINI


End file.
